


Saving Us

by servatia83



Series: Song of the Birds [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Amaranthine (Dragon Age), Deep Roads, Donarks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Minrathous, Post-Canon, Post-Game, Rite of Tranquility, Vigil's Keep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 14:04:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 98,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6426823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servatia83/pseuds/servatia83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Núria has to deal with intelligent darkspawn, her assassin having left, and after all that, a mad plan by Morrigan, that she insists will stop future blights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thoughtless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((A few words before we start:  
> If you haven’t read By Any Other Name, some things referred to may not be understandable. In later chapters that will not matter overly much, by and large this text can stand alone. If you read this alone, just be prepared for the odd reference to something that happened previously, most things are not that unclear I assume.  
> The title I chose is a song by Serj Tankian. The chapter heading is also a song, but by Korn, although I always have the Evanescence cover in my ears for some reason.  
> This is very slightly AU. By that I mean very simply that I have a storyline that is absolutely not in the games or epilogues, and that I handle some things in a way that is not available in the game. And what happens after Awakening is certainly not anything indicated at any point at the game even though it was conceived because of a codex entry. You'll see what I mean.))

_Zevran_

 

A gloomy light lay over Denerim, and a rotting smell was on the constant wind. Since the defeat of the archdemon almost a month ago, it had rained almost ceaselessly with occasional days of dry weather, and the amount of water was turning into a problem. Denerim itself was safe enough, but in some parts of Ferelden rivers were overflowing, flooding farmlands and houses. What was left of the army helped rebuilding the city and keeping the water at bay with more or less success.

Anora and Alistair’s wedding was a grand affair and enjoyed by the people. The new king promised funds and hands for reconstruction where he could spare them and even helped in person whenever his time allowed it.

The many inhabitants of the palace slowly slunk off to their new destinations. One qunari warrior headed for his home. The Hero of Ferelden planned her departure to Amaranthine with a woman called Mhairi: a soldier, and a noble who had sworn to serve the wardens. Her infamous assassin of an escort was also supposed to leave with her, and rumours said that he was going to train all future wardens to be shadows descending on their foes out of nowhere. A young red-headed woman was seen running errands for the royalty wherever a silver tongue was needed, either to soothe people or to convince them into something they might not like. Little did they know that her eloquence was not the only reason, but that there was barely a thing that escaped her, which made her a very valuable person when it came to stopping unrest before it arose. This, in turn, made the new king and queen very popular indeed, since they soon got the reputation of always knowing where help was needed. When the young woman announced she would leave for Orzammar soon to learn more about the darkspawn, those who had met her were all in one mind that this was a pity, really, despite her being Orlesian.

A few of the band of misfits that had saved the country were going to stay. King Alistair of course would not leave his city. The drunken dwarf Oghren had disappeared only a fortnight after the defeat of the archdemon and was seen chasing stray darkspawn. The trouble was that he seemed to be in more than one place at once according to the reports, so information of him wasn’t very reliable. The elderly mage Wynne stayed as counsellor for the king, and the warden and her elven lover spent their days discussing what they would teach the recruits and their nights making love. Or at least, that was what the citizens of Denerim said in the taverns up until the day people started claiming he had run off towards the Free Marches.

Ϡ

A hooded figure in a mage robe hurried through the broken city of Denerim, tripping over stray stones occasionally, eyes everywhere but on the ground. The people rebuilding the city watched without concern. He might be a scavenger, but if that was the case, he would find nothing. More likely he was mad, his wits broken by the horrible fight or the mere presence of the darkspawn. Some people just didn’t survive such things with their health intact, and mages were always on the weird side to begin with, weren’t they? Funnily enough, scavenger was closer to the truth. Only that valuables were not what the figure was after. It was a person.

Indeed, the figure found his quarry rather soon. Well, not precisely who he had been hoping for, but nearly. ‘ _Si te gustan tus ojos donde están, sigueme. Y cállate._ ’ With that whispered warning, he turned on his heels, striding away, still looking as though his path was erratic. He wondered if his prey scared easily enough to obey, and when he finally stopped and turned after he had walked around a corner, he found that he had judged the man correctly. He pulled him into the blind alley and shoved him hard against the wall. ‘Is Ignacio still alive?’ he demanded, still in his native tongue, and the scared man nodded. ‘Where? In Denerim?’

‘No … Not here.’

‘Right. Where then?’

The man tried to twist out of his grasp but failed. It was rather pathetic. ‘I may not tell.’

‘Oh, you may tell _me_. Do you even know who you’re talking to?’ The man nodded, giving up his efforts to get away. ‘Good, then you know what’s good for you I suppose. I’ll ask one more time. _Where is Ignacio?_ ’

‘Ju-just outside. Said there was an abandoned qunari camp.’

‘Ah, yes, that makes sense. Now let’s see if you’re smart. Are you going to warn him?’

‘N–no, I’ll not say a word.’

A soft laugh followed this. ‘Good boy. Tell me, do you like him?’

‘ _What?_ ’

‘Difficult question, is it? Do you like Ignacio? I know he has a thing for the likes of you. I also know that he doesn’t have a soul, but you just might have missed that.’

‘I … I’d rather not …’

‘Thanks, that’s my answer. Well, you do not want to look for him then. You might not like what you’ll find. Don’t mourn him too much in case I have to kill him, he doesn’t deserve it.’ With that, he slammed his fist into the man’s jaw to make sure he would keep his word and slipped quietly out of the city.

The camp still looked as it had the first time. There was a small tent, considering that it had once belonged to a qunari. The remnants of the small fire were warm, and a couple of pots lying beside it indicated that their owner was still around or would return shortly. Well, checking in the tent couldn’t hurt.

The man called Ignacio was lying on the bedroll, looking peaceful. The intruder quickly and silently searched for weapons and found several. He moved them all out of the sleeping man’s reach and wondered if he was actually awake and hiding another dagger under the blankets. He might have fooled all of Denerim into believing he was merely a friendly merchant, but the fact that he was an assassin, and a master, too, was one that had not escaped the man in the robe. He fished for his own dagger and cleared his throat. Ignacio stirred, but so slowly that he might actually have slept. Well, the sun had risen long ago, so it was time to get up anyway. ‘Tsk, tsk, getting careless now you’re not in the city?’

Ignacio shot to his feet, blinking at the intruder. ‘What … you’re … _Zevran?_ What do _you_ look like?’ His eyes darted to the tent flap and back.

‘I preferred not to be recognised,’ the answer came simply. ‘Do not be fooled into believing you could kill me, though. I am warning you, I am not the man you think you knew. And currently, I am very angry indeed.’ He searched in a pocket of the robes and produced a letter. ‘Now would you kindly tell me whose handwriting this is?’ He extended the piece of paper, and Ignacio took it with a frown.

‘Now why would I tell you that?’ he asked.

‘Because being killed by a dead man is not a worthwhile thing. Trust me, you will not do so much as glance hard at your weapons before I kill you. Cesar is dead already, do you really wish to follow?’ The lie slipped off his tongue easily, and it had the effect he wished. Not that he fooled himself into believing that the younger man meant anything to Ignacio, but showing that he had _not_ in fact gone soft could not hurt. Ironic really, that Cesar was probably just now getting to his feet and rubbing his jaw. Ignacio would not be so lucky unless he was very cooperative.

’Sandor Vian has a similar handwriting,’ Ignacio offered, and Zevran sighed.

With one fluid motion he was behind the still slightly sleepy man, pressing his dagger against the skin of his throat. ‘I didn’t ask for similar. It’s not his style, as you very well know.’

Ignacio was not as easily scared though, or at least he didn’t show it. ‘Right … It might also be Miguel Niades. Yes, that might fit.’

Zevran let go of Ignacio. ’See, that’s what I was thinking. The man always chose the tasteless path wherever it was available. So that leaves us with one question. Why would he be bothered to threaten me? Is there a contract on me?’

Ignacio eyed the dagger. ‘Not a contract. A price on your head.’

‘Oh, what an honour. How much?’

‘Five-hundred sovereigns,’ Ignacio said lightly, and Zevran’s eyebrows shot up.

‘Would I not end up dead, I’d deliver my own head,’ he said. ‘But that would normally send apprentices running off to win a bit of glory, but not a man like Niades. He doesn’t need that.’

‘He does,’ Ignacio replied with a pained look on his face. ‘There’s a price on his head too, the same amount. You understand?’

‘He reckons if he brings me dead, he’ll be free?’ Ignacio nodded. ‘Would that work?’

‘It might. It might work for you as well. Perhaps you should try to kill him first, and I bet you they’ll let you return.’

‘After Taliesen? Never.’

‘Taliesen was an ambitious man who liked you too much for his own good, Arainai,’ Ignacio said. ‘No one misses him, really. But you showed what you’re capable of. Do you think it has gone unnoticed that you took part in stopping the blight? Tell them you always intended to return after, you simply saw a danger for Antiva too.’

‘That wouldn’t be so far from the truth,’ Zevran said. ‘What will he do if I leave?’

Ignacio shrugged. ‘Probably nothing. She isn’t worth the risk if you’re not there.’

‘Ignacio … You have seen me leaving Denerim to the west. And you are going to tell that to everyone who will listen, right?’ Zevran asked, playing with his dagger. Ignacio nodded hastily. ‘Now there’s just one thing I need to know. Where is Niades? Not in Antiva, I take it. Denerim?’

‘Amaranthine,’ Ignacio replied with a wry grin. ‘He heard that you would be going there.’

‘Then let everyone know that I left for West Hill,’ Zevran said. ‘Tell them you caught me sneaking out of the city or whatever.’ Ignacio blinked at him and nodded again. ‘I will know, you’re aware of that. And I swear, you will pay if you do not do as I bid.’ With that he left the slightly flustered man. He headed back to Denerim as quickly as he could to take his possessions from where he had hidden them and leave on a horse whose owner was probably one of the corpses still piling directly outside the gates, emitting the strong smell of decay that was carried into the city by the wind.

Ϡ

Zevran read the letter he had found in his and Núria’s room for the eleventh time now, and it still said the same thing.

_‘Next time the dagger will come before she leaves. After that, it will be you. No one messes with the Crows and lives, Arainai. Consider yourself dead. But first you will watch her go. You shame the House of Crows, and that cannot be tolerated.’_

Niades had some nerve. This way to act shamed the house of Crows, if anything did! It simply was not the way assassins worked. They didn’t pull third parties into business unless they had to, and to kill Núria would not even endear Niades to the Crows. On the contrary, if the Master who’d had the contract on her still had ambitions to finish the job, he would be very angry indeed if Niades did it before him. And warning Zevran that he intended to kill him wasn’t exactly wise, either. But this man had always ticked like that. He had no subtlety and Zevran had no idea how he had managed to rise to the rank of a master. Normally those people didn’t survive their first job. But what he lacked in style, he had amply in cruelty, and he was feared by many people. Zevran wondered whom Niades had crossed to get a price onto his head. Perhaps Zevran’s master? That would make sense, especially killing _him_ would make sense then. But then it would also help with returning to his old life. If his master wanted Niades dead, he could probably return if he killed him.

Zevran closed his eyes and played the scenario through in his head. He would be watched carefully for a time, that much was sure, and if there was any sign of Núria he would have to kill her. But she would go to Vigil’s Keep to rebuild her order, and not to Antiva. He simply had to avoid being seen by her. Zevran figured himself in his beautiful Antiva City, at the docks. He pictured Núria leaving a ship in travelling attire, him approaching with a cheerful look on his face, pulling her into an embrace, only to slip a dagger between her ribs. He could see her face, full of shock and sadness, and he shuddered. He had no illusions about this: He would not hurt her. Antiva was out of bounds for good, and the Crows were something he was still glad to consider his past. It wouldn’t take him long to find Niades, he hoped, and then he would tell Núria the truth. All would be fine in a short while.

The journey to Amaranthine was far, but all the same he would take a detour to the west in case he was followed. He didn’t trust Ignacio and wondered if it hadn’t been a mistake to let him live, but he couldn’t return. If he was seen by the wrong people he wouldn’t be able to do this. He could imagine what Leliana would say to him, and to hear her calling him a faithless traitor was more than he thought he could bear without running back to the palace. Part of him thought that Núria was able to resist attacks very well, but the fact remained that he had not heard anyone sneaking into their room, and he was ready to bet his head that she wouldn’t have noticed them either. If anything happened to her because of him, he would never forgive himself.

A nasty voice in Zevran’s head pointed out that Núria was unlikely to forgive that he had left her again without a word, which was the one thing she had asked him not to do. He would have to explain everything to her, then perhaps she might. But that was something to be pondered when Niades was out of the way.

There weren’t too many who would move against Zevran, and most of those foolish enough would be manageable. But Niades had no conscience. He was cruel and devious, and if Zevran stayed, Núria was as good as dead, no matter what protection they had. If he couldn’t just cut her throat in her sleep, he’d poison her or wait for her to be alone for only a moment. No, he had to know that Zevran had fled, only then would he leave her alone. He would send someone looking for him, and Zevran knew how to lay a false trail. His led to West Hill. There he would find people who would swear they had seen him boarding a ship to the Free Marches. Anyone following him could decide whether he was mad enough to return to Antiva, or if he had set out to Tevinter instead.

With his heart bleeding, he chanced a glance back at the walls of Denerim. ‘ _Que te vaya bien, mi amora_ ,’ he whispered and turned his mare around. Lifting his right leg to the flank of the animal he spurred her with his left, and she ran off in a swift gallop. The only reason why his eyes were watering was the wind blowing in his face, he told himself.

 


	2. A Dead Man’s Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((A Dead Man’s Song is a song by L’orchestre de chambre noir, but really the only thing that fits is the title. The lyrics have nothing to do with it. It is a very beautiful song though, and the voice of the singer is ... Ooooh.))

_Núria_

 

For a moment she wondered if she shouldn’t wake her lover, but then he turned onto his back, looking so peaceful that she just didn’t find it in her heart. She went downstairs to have breakfast with those remaining, she practised archery with Leliana, she played with Ivanhoe. When noon neared, she decided this was too much of a good thing and went to wake Zevran. But their bed was empty, on the small table in their room only a short note.

_‘Love is not for one as I am, I have come to understand. Know that I am sorry, but I have to leave now. Perhaps I shall go home. I wish you all the luck in the world in Amaranthine. Zevran.’_

A gale of laughter sounded from outside, and her door burst open to reveal a joyful Leliana with a dwarven woman in tow. ‘Núria, I’ll leave tomorrow, and I almost forgot to tell you!’ Only then she caught the expressionless look on the elven woman’s face. ‘Um … What happened?’ Núria silently extended her arm with the note to Leliana, too stunned to consider if she wanted to share this news yet. Leliana breathed in and out deeply. ‘Ira, you can go ahead of me, I’ll be hanging around for a while,’ the Orlesian said softly, and the dwarf nodded without a question. ‘Ira … she’s going to help me with my research. But I guess I’m giving her a headstart. I … I don’t know what to say to this.’ Núria looked up at her friend and tried desperately not to scream. Leliana approaching and putting her arms around her didn’t help much either, and she started sobbing into her shoulder, feeling like a child as she clutched to her like a drowning person.

She never knew how long it took her to stifle her tears and to extricate herself from the taller woman. ‘Look, Núria, I’m thinking there’s more to this,’ the bard said carefully, waving the paper. She looked at it again. ‘It was written very quickly, I’ve seen Zev’s writing once or twice when he made lists of things he needed for his poisons, and it isn’t normally that bad. You thought he’d left you once, didn’t you? And he came back for you.’

‘This is different,’ Núria said hoarsely. ‘Look, he took everything he possessed.’

Leliana went to check. ‘He left this … and this.’ She produced a couple of bottles with various liquids and a bag with a strong smelling herb in it. ‘Adder’s kiss, Crow poison, and what not. Quite the collection. And that,’ she sniffed the herbs, ‘unless I am much mistaken is … Oh, but where would you get that in Ferelden?’ She tossed the bag to Núria, who sniffed absent-mindedly.

‘That’s tea,’ she said at once.

‘That’s only one way to use it. It’s … what do you call it here again? Slakeweed? Yes, I think that was it.’

‘What does it do?’ Núria asked, not really caring but wanting to talk about something that wasn’t the note.

Leliana smiled. ‘Various things. Did you drink a tea that smelled like that?’

‘In the alienage, after I was racked.’

Leliana nodded. ‘Hmm, I wish I’d had that after my punishment in Orlais. I guess I know why he left you this, but I don’t suppose this is a good idea.’

‘Why? Is this a painkiller that helps against … this, as well?’

‘It might, but it might also backfire. I don’t recommend you to try it.’ She paused for a moment and grabbed Núria’s hands. ‘Now look. He left you poisons for your safety and this for the pain. I really do not think he left because he wanted to. He adores you.’

Núria shook her head slowly. ‘He would have hinted something then. Leliana, I’d rather be alone for a moment.’

The bard sighed. ‘You know I’ll be there if you need me?’ Núria nodded. ‘Right. I will check back with you before the day is over, and don’t try to hide, I’ll find you.’ She hugged her again and left Núria to her thoughts.

The strange thing was, as soon as Núria was alone in this room, she wished she hadn’t sent Leliana away. Zevran’s scent lingered in the air, torturing her to no end. His note remained, refused to fade away and indicate this was all a horrible nightmare. Even the depression on the pillow was shaped like his head, and she remembered how he had lain there, looking so sweet and content. She fled at a run to find Leliana again. She had to get away. Now.

Leliana was talking to Wynne in soft tones when Núria approached. From the look the mage gave her she couldn’t tell if Leliana had told her Zevran had left, but the blush on the bard’s cheeks gave her away. ‘Some spy you are,’ Núria pointed out. ‘I’m going to the Circle Tower. I need to find out about something. You can come with me, Leliana, unless you have to go.’

‘I have no time limit, really,’ the Orlesian replied. ‘I’ll go with you. When shall we leave?’

‘Now. We won’t get too far, but I have to get out of here.’

‘You must tell Alistair,’ Wynne said. ‘You cannot just disappear.’

‘I’ll be back here before I have to go to Amaranthine,’ Núria answered. ‘But I’m not going to say good-bye to anyone now. I … I just can’t.’

‘You’re wasting your time, Núria,’ Wynne said gently.

‘No,’ Leliana replied. ‘I understand that. You can’t be blamed for wanting to get out.’ Well, if she thought she knew why Núria was doing this, at least she wouldn’t ask questions about what she intended to do at the tower.

Ϡ

Their journey was far, but with Leliana time always passed quickly. She had the sense not to speak of Zevran, but she didn’t let Núria brood either. She told her stories of the Ancient Tevinters, about Orlesian fashion, tales from the Free Marches, and how odd all the rest of Thedas considered Fereldan politics. Núria noticed that she had taken the herb from her, but she needn’t have bothered. She really didn’t want to remember that one night in the alienage, at least not yet. There was a hole in her soul where Zevran should be, and whenever anything reminded her of him, it started to bleed.

When they arrived at the Circle Tower, Núria asked at once for an audience with the First Enchanter. Being who she was, she was granted the favour very quickly, and so she stepped into his office with Leliana in tow, who still had no idea what they were doing here in the first place.

‘A pleasure to see you,’ Irving greeted them. ‘Can I offer you anything?’

‘Indeed,’ Núria said. ‘I invoke the right of conscription on the mage Jowan.’

Irving opened his mouth for a moment and closed it again. Leliana made a soft noise beside her, but she ignored her. The old mage rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘I am afraid that this is impossible. Do not misunderstand me, I am fully aware of your right to do this, but … in his case I cannot help you.’

Núria glared at him. ‘You’ve killed him, haven’t you?’

Irving sighed. ‘ _I_ haven’t done anything to him, please understand that. What I did was plead for his life, for I was told how fervently you defended him, and I felt it is the least I can do for you in exchange for what you did for us here. But his crimes were too severe to ignore. The templars made him Tranquil.’

‘The templars, right. Morrigan was right about the cattle thing. You allowed it!’

‘Trust me, no one regrets this more than I do. Perhaps someday things will change for us, but that will not happen if we use force to get there. That will only make things worse. I tried my best. I talked to him for a long time after he was brought here. He was willing to go through the Harrowing, he swore not to leave again, nor to use blood magic, and I even believe he learned from what happened. He learned it in a very hard way, too. But after what happened here, I had a very poor starting position in arguing with the Knight Commander over the fate of a known blood mage.’

‘It’s like it is in the alienages. And in both cases everyone reckons it’s best as it is.’

Irving nodded. ‘That analogy is painfully accurate. Is there anything else?’

‘I … want to talk to him.’

Irving raised his eyebrows. ‘You can do that, he is in the library. But I suppose that will not be a pleasant experience.’

‘Wouldn’t be my first in recent days.’

They found Jowan all right. He was standing like a statue in the middle of the library, looking with extreme disinterest at the apprentices and the mage tutoring them. They were summoning things from the fade, by the looks of it. One apprentice had summoned what looked like a piglet, but it arrived dead. The mage next to him, a young woman with short dark hair and a brisk voice, told him why it had gone wrong.

‘Jowan?’ Núria asked, trying to ignore the mages.

His eyes moved over to her, but they were dead. ‘Welcome, Grey Warden. How can I be of assistance?’

Núria felt like turning around and fleeing. If the Tranquil in Ostagar had unnerved her, it was nothing compared to this. She remembered the person Jowan, and now was faced with … with a thing. ‘I … am so sorry,’ she said, her lower lip trembling.

‘You saved my life, I understand,’ he replied. ‘You have no reason to apologise.’

‘I wanted you to be free, I never wanted this,’ she told him, knowing that he wouldn’t understand. Not anymore. She noticed vaguely that the mage shooed her apprentices out and started returning books to their shelves.

‘I was too dangerous,’ Jowan said with that horrible flat voice. ‘I was a threat to the Circle and the world outside. It is better this way. I cannot harm anyone ever again.’

‘And you cannot repent what you did either,’ Núria said loudly, suddenly angry. She strode up to him and shook him, feeling a strong desire to slam him into the shelves to evoke some kind of reaction.

‘If that would help, I would have done it long before,’ someone said behind Núria, and she let go of Jowan, who composed his clothing and looked as though nothing had happened. ‘We should talk. Somewhere else.’ The mage left at a quick stride, and after exchanging a glance with Leliana, Núria followed her.

The young woman led them to what had to be her room. She locked the door quickly and offered them a seat. ‘I’m Aisling.’ She breathed in and out deeply. ‘Jowan said you wanted him released. I sneaked into his cell before he was made Tranquil. It’s a pity we didn’t meet when you were here the first time, but I had managed to escape to the … the repository with a few others. And then Wynne saved all of us down there by holding the door. Great woman, Wynne.’ She was talking very quickly.

‘You didn’t lock the door because you wanted to praise Wynne, I take it,’ Leliana said.

Aisling shot the bard a half grin and ran a hand over her face. ‘No, I didn’t. I talked to Jowan for ages after they did this to him. We were friends before, ever since I had arrived here. I was a single child and talking to myself a lot. The other kids made fun of me, but he never did. Instead he gave me another person to talk to.’ She let out a sigh and glanced at a point behind the two. ‘After my Harrowing … it’s a kind of test for apprentices, everyone has to take it. After my Harrowing, I was going to say, he told me he had found out they thought him a blood mage and wanted to make him Tranquil. I … asked if they were right, and he denied it. He begged me to help him escape. Foolish fresh fully fledged mage that I was, I went to Irving. He said that they were indeed going to do this horrible thing to him, and that they had evidence and witnesses against him. I … was so angry I let him persuade me to lead him into a trap. I pretended to help him escape. The templars caught him red-handed. I was only spared because Irving had sent me in the first place. I never regretted anything more … He escaped all the same as you know. Not that it did him much good. How I hoped they’d never find him …’ She buried her face in her hands.

‘Aisling … it must be terrible to see a friend like this, but … not to be impolite … Why are you telling us this?’ Leliana asked. ‘Is there anything we can do?’

Aisling took a deep breath. ‘No. I asked Jowan what he learned out there. He was always a great researcher, he had an uncanny knack for finding out things you will read in no book. Not that all of what he knew was welcome. I guess that’s why they had their eyes on him in the first place. My guess would be that he stumbled over blood magic through his sheer curiosity. Most of us find this thrilling, especially because it is forbidden. And Jowan always was talented. His problem was that it seemed the destructive brands of magic were what he was best at. Entropical school – yes, no problem. A simple healing spell – oh dear. Not that this was his fault, but tell that the templars. Add an insatiable wish to learn all there is, the more hidden, the more interesting. Poor Jowan.

‘Anyway, he learned a lot outside the tower. Before they caught me talking to him in his cell he said something … that perhaps Tranquility wasn’t as bad as a death sentence after all, because death was forever. Now if you ask Greagoir if there’s a way to reverse the Rite of Tranquility, he’ll say no. If you ask Irving, he’ll say no one knows one. I say Jowan does. Or he got close to one. He just won’t tell me.’ She slammed her hand into the arm of her chair in frustration.

‘Why not?’ Núria asked. ‘Doesn’t he want to be back to normal?’

‘Jowan wants what he is told. He cannot want anything for himself any more. That was the whole point of it, if you ask me. I suspect there would be ways to stop mages from casting without destroying them! Look at the magebane potions, they do that. But this is just … It’s worse than being sentenced to a life in prison.’

‘Do you think you can get the information out of him, somehow?’

Aisling grinned wryly. ‘What good would that be? If I should manage to reverse the process, they’ll kill him, simply because they’ll have enough of him.’

‘I would conscript him. Unless you think he would consider this just as bad as being Tranquil, if he could decide.’

‘He told me he wanted to redeem himself. He could die in the process, I heard … But if he had been given the choice, he would always have chosen to keep his life. And this … this isn’t life. With you he’d have a chance at least.’

’So could you do it?’

‘I don’t know, to be quite honest. I would need to get into his mind, and that means blood magic. I would first try to persuade him, but trying to persuade a Tranquil is like trying to tell Greagoir to leave us to ourselves. And there’s always a chance that he didn’t know everything, or that I just won’t find out because I do not have his skills with this kind of research. He might also have been wrong. And asking Irving isn’t an option, either, really.’

Núria rose. ‘Do what you can. He doesn’t deserve this. He deserves a chance to make up for what he did, and he won’t get it if he’s like this. Only don’t let them catch you using blood magic as well.’

Aisling smiled weakly. ‘I know how much depends on this. And I have no intention to end up next to him, looking at nowhere.’


	3. More Than Strikes The Eye

_Zevran_

 

West Hill was nothing like the King’s Palace, and the small village that had formed around the fortress was little more than an extended harbour. As far as Zevran knew, this was a relatively recent development in and of itself. Once the castle had served to spot corsairs, but those were no longer a problem, and now, slowly, trade was winning over watchfulness. He rode to a small and rather shabby inn. He paid for a room for a few nights and went to the docks to ask when the next ship to the Free Marches would leave.

He was in luck. The captain of a newly arrived Rivainian cargo vessel was going to leave for Cumberland on its route. Well, that was Nevarra rather than the Free Marches, but it didn’t matter. It was away from Amaranthine, that was all that counted. He showed the merchant the gold he was going to give him for transporting him and was rewarded with a grin.

Slowly he walked back to his inn. As good as it was to have found a ship so quickly, it meant time pressure. A boy from another ship was running errands for his captain, and Zevran stopped him on his way. ‘Oi, there! Would you like to earn yourself ten silvers?’ The boy stopped in mid-run and stared up him. ‘There’s twenty. For this you get a room for a man called Adán Vares at the inn for two nights from tomorrow and … is there a herbalist’s store anywhere, by any chance?

‘There, just around the corner,’ the boy said. ‘I can get you anything from him, even Slakeweed!’

Zevran chuckled. ‘That won’t be necessary. Do you know if he has a stock of Dalish Roundleaf?’

‘Quite the stock, ser. How much do you want? Three ounces would do for you, my guess is.’

Zevran stared at the child. ‘Now aren’t you smart. But it’ll have to last for I don’t know how long. Buy 50 ounces, just to be on the safe side. Who knows. And another ten ounces of the dark variety. Off you go.’

He didn’t have to wait long. The boy told him Adán’s room number and delivered quite the amount of Dalish Roundleaf. ‘I paid 13 silvers for everything,’ he informed Zevran. ‘Are you on the run? The darkspawn are gone.’

Zevran sighed. ‘I promised you ten silvers, that’s what you’re trying to tell me, right?’ he replied and tossed the rest to the boy. ‘And if someone asks, you haven’t talked to me. I’ll leave on a ship tomorrow. It would be welcome if you’d witness me doing so.’

‘The ship to Nevarra? The captain is a horrible man, they say he tosses passengers into the Narrow Sea if he doesn’t like them.’

Zevran chuckled. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not planning to linger.’

‘I didn’t think so,’ the child replied and ran back to his errands.

Ϡ

The next evening, Zevran went aboard the _Pigeon’s Flight_ and a young boy waved him goodbye. They had barely left the harbour when he jumped into the black water and swam back to West Hill. He was lucky that there were so few people here. No one watched him pulling himself ashore and creeping to where he had hidden dry clothes. He changed quickly and kicked his wet things out of view. Carefully, he slunk to the inn and into the room in which Adán was going to be born. To his relief, there was a mirror in the room, a small and bent one, but a mirror all the same. Zevran sat cross-legged in front of it and produced a pair of scissors. With a sigh, he cut his hair short into a slightly wild growth.

He found himself unfamiliar already, but he had to be on the safe side, so he sneaked down into the kitchens. An elven woman was cleaning the surfaces without paying attention to her surroundings. Zevran hid in an adjacent room and waited for her to leave. He continued waiting until all was quiet. Only then he lit a fire on the hearth and started boiling water in a pot, filling another one with cold water. He threw a generous amount of the one herb into the hot water and waited patiently for the fluid to boil down until he was left with a strong smelling, slightly sluggish substance.

He moved the boiling pot upstairs quickly but silently. In his room, he threw the other variety of the herb into the cold water, dipped a small branch into the mush, and traced lines on his face, changing the shape of his tattoos. If looked at closely, there would certainly be a difference between the original tattoos and what he was doing, but he wouldn’t allow anyone to get that close anyway. He didn’t try to make the lines symmetric, knowing he wouldn’t be able to anyway, so he simply added a stylised branch with a leaf on his right cheek and decided this would have to do.

Due to the larger amount in the second pot, its contents were still steaming. Zevran produced an old and ugly pair of leather gloves that reached up to his elbows and dipped his fingers in. With a slightly disgusted look on his face, he applied the rough pulp to his hair, working carefully lest he missed a strand or put the substance onto his face. He was slightly nervous about the outcome. If he was very unlucky it wouldn’t work for him. He wouldn’t be the first. When he had used up the entire pap, he wrapped an old shirt around his head and sat waiting for a couple of hours, keeping himself firmly awake. He had to be done before the first people were out to watch him.

When he found he had spent enough time waiting, he grabbed his pots and left the inn silently. He sneaked down to the harbour and washed the remainder of the pulp out of the pots, his gloves, and finally the shirt on his head and his hair and face. Feeling rather self-conscious, he walked back and placed the pots where he had taken them from. The strong smell of the Dalish Roundleaf still lingered, but there was nothing he could do about that. Unless … He looked for a bottle of a strong red wine and dropped it to the floor. The elven servant might get into some trouble for this, but he didn’t think the wine was too expensive. The smell of the wine was strong enough at least to make it uncertain where the other smell came from. Content for the moment, Zevran returned to his room and glanced at the mirror. A stranger with wild red hair and rather Dalish looking tattoos looked back at him. He had done well.

Ϡ

The journey back to the east was much shorter than from Denerim to West Hill. The North Road followed an almost straight line until it crossed the Hafter River, remaining south of Highever. At the bridge he turned to follow a considerably smaller road to the City of Amaranthine.

Zevran was barely inside the city when a few guards stepped up to him and demanded to search his possessions. For a moment he considered risking a fight, but he couldn’t attract too much attention, so he grudgingly allowed it. They eyed his stock of Dalish Roundleaf with some suspicion. ‘That looks like you’re smuggling Slakeweed,’ one of the guards commented.

‘I’m not smuggling anything,’ Zevran said with forced calm. ‘And if you think this is Slakeweed you’re not a very able person to do this job.’

’Some women use this to dye their hairs red,’ the other guard said with a glance at Zevran’s head.

‘Is that part of what you’re supposed to do, harassing travellers?’ he asked. ‘Unless you find anything I am not entitled to have, let me be.’ The two guards allowed him to leave, but he could feel their suspicious looks on him. He asked around for a place to stay and was directed to the Crown and Lion. When he saw the place he knew it was no good. This was way too public. He needed something smaller.

After almost the entire day had passed, Zevran managed to find a tiny old woman who rent out rooms. This was much better. He didn’t have hot water unless he boiled it himself in a so-called cookery at the outskirts of the city. Well, he didn’t plan to spend a lot of time here. Once he was done and could move on to Vigil’s Keep he’d have all the hot water he wanted, and he wouldn’t have to use it for something as undignified as dying his hair. The thought that Núria might already be two days south of him made him leave his quarters in the evening. The sooner he found Niades, the better.

Finding a Crow in a city like this might prove difficult, especially if said Crow didn’t want to be found. But Zevran also knew that the Antivan Crows were rarely welcomed by the local criminals. The fact that he had been searched spoke volumes: There had to be smugglers somewhere, and with any luck, they wouldn’t be too hard to spot. He tried the market, but at this time of night no one was there. Well, these smugglers weren’t complete beginners. He would have to look very carefully if he wanted to find them.

It cost Zevran the best part of a week to find someone who could help him. On the sixth day, he moved to the outer parts of the city, ignored the cookeries to his left and turned right into a small alley. Two men were sitting on the floor at the very back of it, playing cards before a small fire.

‘Now, now, do the guards approve of fires in the streets?’ Zevran asked them with a grin. ‘I wonder why I was searched when I came here the first time. Might it be that you are the reason for that?’

The two men rose. The taller one approached Zevran and glared at him. ‘Watch who you accuse here.’

‘I’m not accusing anyone,’ Zevran replied. ‘I wonder if you have something for sale for me?’

‘If we were smugglers we would have to be gloriously stupid to sell to a stranger who talks about guards.’

‘I do not want your smuggled fake swords,’ Zevran said. ‘I want information. Would you know about one man called Miguel? Talks like me, bald head, arrogant face you want to beat to a pulp on sight?’

‘I know no Miguel, but I know an Antivan. What is he to you?’

‘I have business with him. Are you contacts of his, by any chance?’

‘We’re no bleeding contacts of that bugger,’ the smuggler spat. ‘We’ve been trying to get rid of him. Got three men killed in the attempt. He placed their bodies, or the pieces of them, right in our stockroom. Never knew how he did it. But his name is Vagos.’

‘Funny thing, names,’ Zevran said. ‘But that sounds like him. How would you like it if I said I am planning to either send him running back home or kill him?’

‘To take over his rein?’ the tall man asked, taking another step towards Zevran. He was barely two inches from him and looked down at him. ‘Better kill you at once, perhaps.’

‘I do not recommend you to try,’ Zevran said without backing away. ‘I assure you I have no interest of going into business here. My plans lie elsewhere. Only the good man made the mistake to inform me that he wants to kill me, and I can barely ignore that, can I, now?’

The smuggler stared down into Zevran’s eyes for a moment, then he nodded. ‘Right. He’s in the Crown and Lion inn, in the left hand room upstairs. Goes by the name of Vagos something. But at the moment he’s not in the city. Check back with me tomorrow and I’ll tell you if he’s here.’

After another two weeks, the smuggler was waiting for Zevran at the beginning of the alley, and he felt excitement crawling into his very finger tips. ‘Is he back?’ he asked.

The smuggler grinned broadly. ‘Indeed. He has returned to his room with a beautiful young thing in tow.’

‘Now would you be able to tell me how I get into the inn unseen?’

‘For twenty silvers I’ll get you there personally.’

Zevran laughed softly. ‘Oh, yes, I’ll pay for doing you a favour, but only after you’ve shown me that entrance.’

‘Deal. You must really want to get him badly.’ Shaking his head, he led him into a small house and through a tunnel to a trapdoor. ‘Up there. Turn right from here, first door you see. Here’s the key for you to get back down here. Just don’t lead anyone to us or you’re dead. And watch out for the ferret.’

‘Excuse me, I didn’t catch that last,’ Zevran said with a frown as he handed over the silver in exchange for the key.

‘Ferret,’ the man repeated. ‘Sorcha, the maid, has a ferret that hates strangers. Just you wait and see.’

Shaking his head, Zevran crept through the trapdoor. He looked around and found a pair of eyes glaring at him from a distance. ‘A watch-ferret … I don’t get it,’ he muttered and moved slowly out of the room to the next door. He picked the lock as silently as he could and slipped inside. Niades was standing stark naked at the window, staring at him with a quickly deflating erection as he entered. A small woman had been kneeling before him. She had darted to the bed to cover her modesty with the blanket. ‘Good evening, so sorry to interrupt,’ Zevran said. He eyed the woman. ‘Get out and forget what you saw, just a suggestion.’ She stared at Zevran with wide eyes, and he sighed. ‘I won’t turn my back on that man. I’ll look at him rather than you, although that’s not quite as nice. Just hurry.’ Hastily, she dressed and ran, nearly tripping over her own feet.

‘Who in the name of Andraste are you?’ Niades asked, unable to contain himself.

Zevran would have laughed if the entire situation hadn’t been so serious. ‘You don’t even recognise me? Some assassin. I thought I’d fool a few citizens, but you … Oh, I start wondering if you’re even worth the effort.’ Niades blinked. Zevran produced the note he had found in his room and held it out to Niades, but without giving it to him when he reached for it. ‘Oh no, I’ll keep that,’ he said and withdrew his hand.

Niades swallowed. ‘You’re supposed to be in Nevarra.’

‘Ah, that … was a ruse, I’m afraid.’ Despite the danger this situation held for him, he enjoyed himself greatly. This was exactly what he was good at, and this time no one could call his plan horrid, however hastily it was devised. ‘Now what do you think why I am here?’

‘You plan to return to Antiva with my head?’ Niades asked. ‘Just you watch, you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, Arainai.’

‘So have you,’ Zevran answered. ‘My master wants both of us dead, I take it? And now one of us can buy himself back into his good graces. But trust me, I have no interest in returning. I’m done with the Crows. But I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you anyway.’ He reached for his daggers and saw Niades do the same, only that he had a bottle in his other hand. He was ready to jump out of the way if this was an explosive, but he needn’t have bothered. Niades slammed his elbow into the window and the glass shattered. Zevran watched him scramble through and jump. Without hesitation he turned and ran down to the door, ignoring the ferret hissing at him. He ran around the house and found Niades clutching a bloody hand to his chest. Zevran was on him in an instant, thinking that this was too easy. He was right. A dagger bit into his arm, and a sharp pain told him that the blade had been poisoned. The slight sickly scent betrayed its nature to the Antivan, and he felt fear creeping through his veins at the thought what this would do to him.

‘I’m taking you with me Arainai,’ Niades said, slightly weak from the poison already.

‘What did you do, man? Who’s stupid enough to fall on a bottle of poison?’ He backed away from the other man, knowing he was going to die from the many poisoned cuts in his hand. If he didn’t want to share his fate he had to find a healer, and quickly.

Niades made a grab for him. ‘You think you win? She’ll die. I’m not the only one who wanted that. You’ll see her sweet and soon, unless there’s a special spot in hell for Grey Wardens.’ Zevran yanked himself free and ran back to the city, his heart beating wildly in his throat. He ran into a guard, and for a change he was glad about that.

‘I need a healer,’ he told him firmly. ‘Someone who’s good with poisons.’

The guard looked at his bleeding arm and shoved him onwards and up a flight of stairs into the chantry. There he let him drop onto one of the banks and left. When he returned, he was followed by a mage. There was a frown on her angry face. ‘I told ye I’m no’ to be woken. I ‘ave quite the journey tomorrow. Now le’ me see this, man. Wha’ poison is i’?’

Zevran had never been more glad that there weren’t many poisons he didn’t know. ‘Deathroot … mixed with some toxins from animals … highly concentrated.’ Zevran could already feel his grip on life fading.

The woman’s eyes widened. ‘Quie’ Death?’ she asked, and Zevran nodded. ‘Stay with me, man. I’ll help ye.’ She ran away for a moment, returning quickly with assorted leaves and a glass of a greenish fluid. She tipped some of the liquid down Zevran’s throat and started squashing fluid out of some of the leaves onto the wound on his arm. She continued doing this, her hands glowing in a soft blue light as she muttered under her breath. The guard left at some point, returning to his patrol. Slowly the sheer panic left Zevran and he took a good look at his benefactor. She wasn’t very young and had an impatient air about her, even as she was saving his life. When she was done, she slapped his shoulder. ‘Now take this bottle with you. If ye feel yer hear’-rate decreasing drink from i’. You shoul’ be fine otherwise.’

Zevran nodded. ‘Thank you, dear lady.’

‘’m no lady,’ she replied and left him sitting there.


	4. Surprises

_Núria_

 

‘It won’t get better from staring at this dratted thing,’ Leliana said softly.

‘It won’t get better from anything, Leliana,’ Núria replied. She put herself under regular torture by reading Zevran’s note of farewell. She had taken off his earring and had seriously wanted to fling it into Lake Calenhad, but Leliana had insisted that she would regret that and persuaded her just to store it somewhere safe, if she was really unwilling to wear it. Núria simply couldn’t see why the bard was so sure he would come back. Zevran had never been a man to commit himself to one woman, had he? She took a deep breath. ‘I should get over him,’ she said and stuffed the paper into her bag. ‘Perhaps there are a few handsome Orlesian wardens in the Keep, what do you think?’

‘I think you’d regret that even more than you would have regretted throwing your earring away, Núria,’ Leliana said. ‘You’ll hurt him if you betray him.’

‘I cannot betray someone who has abandoned me!’

Leliana merely sighed. ‘Núria … you’re my friend right?’ The elf looked up to her, startled by that question. ‘I’m asking because I know I’m getting in your hair, but I think I have to make my point clear. You’re angry, and you have every right to be. But do not do something harsh. What will you do if he’s in the palace when we return?’

‘Before or after I run him through? We both know what I’ll do, don’t we?’

‘Currently, I’m not sure. Sometimes you almost scare me.’

Núria blinked at her. ‘Why on earth?’

Leliana shrugged. ‘There’s something fierce to you … Some anger that seems to get the better of you at times. Mostly you control it, but then something happens and you’re all … I don’t know how to describe it, but I think you’re not always in control of yourself as much as you’d like.’

‘Meaning I am insane?’ Núria asked her in a dangerous tone.

‘Meaning you’re … in that kind of pain that just won’t wear off. You know … I had a crush on you a long time ago. Did you know that?’

Núria stared. ‘I … no, I didn’t. I’m sorry!’

Leliana laughed softly. ‘No need, I realised very soon that this isn’t your thing. I thought for a while you’re not interested in any kind of closeness. And then came Zevran, and you … were drawn to him from the word go. It was almost palpable. Although I never thought he’d turn out as he did, I thought he’d do you good, and he did. He didn’t always agree with you, but he didn’t fight over things like Alistair either. He was exactly what you needed to keep leading us. He might not be there now though, and you have to find the same strength you had before for Vigil’s Keep. You’ll be Warden Commander, Núria, do you understand how much is resting on your shoulders? You cannot let yourself slip now. You simply cannot.’

‘It’s like I can do nothing right. Zevran, Jowan, everything’s slipping, only I may not.’

‘Neither of this is your fault. Jowan would be dead if it wasn’t for you. And who knows what this Aisling will find out? She wouldn’t be able to revive a dead man, though.’

‘Leliana?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Write to me when you’re in Orzammar. Keep me posted on what’s going on there, on how you’re doing. I’ll need that.’

Leliana chuckled. ‘I will. I’m sure they have carrier pigeons in Vigil’s Keep. I know they do above Orzammar. And if anything happens you’ll tell me, too?’

Núria nodded. ‘Of course I will. And to answer your other question, of course I’m your friend.’ Leliana smiled at that.

Ϡ

They had barely arrived in Denerim when Núria was told by Mhairi that they should depart as soon as possible. Núria agreed on the next morning, seeking out Alistair to say goodbye properly. Alistair didn’t mention her absence at all, apparently he had been heard what had happened by Wynne. Sadly, she had left on mage-business, as Alistair had called it, but intended to return to his council when she was done. Núria wondered briefly what the former templar would have to say to her endeavour, and was secretly glad he didn’t know of it – although she wondered if perhaps she should give him more credit. She returned to her room to pack, knowing that the journey to Vigil’s Keep would not be too long, and that then she could, for once, rest. The Orlesian wardens would certainly know more about recruiting and pretty much anything than she, and she hoped sincerely that she would have at least a few days to herself to mourn her loss.

Saying goodbye to Leliana she kept for the moment of her departure. It took her a lot of courage not to beg the bard to come with her. Leliana somehow radiated calm and comfort, and she could do with that. But when she was pulled into a tight embrace by the Orlesian, she knew that her duty lay elsewhere. They both had their own paths, and this time, they didn’t coincide. ‘You’ll do fine, Núria, you always do,’ Leliana told her. ‘This is not the last we speak, I’m sure of it. Fare well, my friend.’ And somehow, miraculously, for the first time now, she felt really up to her task. How the other woman did this, she would never know.

Within sight of Vigil’s Keep, Núria added to the previously slow travelling pace. Admittedly, she was almost nervous about the welcome the other wardens would give her. She guessed they would ask her just how she had survived slaying the archdemon, and she wasn’t sure what to tell them. She didn’t know enough about the matter to invent something, to claim she didn’t know wouldn’t sound credible, and the truth would likely cause them to question her sanity.

When they saw the first genlock near the keep, these thoughts vanished quickly. Núria and Mhairi exchanged a worried glance and proceeded more carefully. The lack of a welcoming party apart from the darkspawn was more than alarming. They seemed to be everywhere, attacking anyone moving in the small village outside the keep, merchants and soldiers alike. Núria and Mhairi did their best to find and slay them all, all the while wondering what on earth was going on here. Núria grabbed one of the survivors by the scruff of the neck as he attempted to run away. ‘Where are the other wardens?’

‘There was someone right behind me, a mage,’ the scared man said. ‘He might have been a warden, I don’t know.’

‘Right. I’ll find him. You run for help. Now.’ There was no need to tell him twice. She looked at Mhairi. ‘Let’s keep moving.’

The huge door into the keep crashed open before they got there. The darkspawn had somehow got inside, _into_ Vigil’s Keep. No matter how much Núria wanted just to return to Denerim and tell the bad news, she couldn’t. A quiet voice in her head said that entering this place with only one person beside her was extremely reckless, but there was something much louder, angrier, overlaying it, urging her on, never allowing her to take a breath.

Mhairi didn’t seem to have something similar in her mind. ‘Unbelievable,’ she panted a few rooms into the fortress. The soldier stopped to take a breath. ‘The keep has been overwhelmed!’

‘The wardens should be mounting a better defence,’ Núria replied, wondering how many of them would be left.

Mhairi nodded fervently. ‘I agree. Where are they all? For the darkspawn to have ambushed the keep so effectively – I didn’t know they were capable of such a thing.’ She had a point there … Darkspawn didn’t ambush … They came running, shouting and baring their teeth, they didn’t think first. This was _wrong_.

‘I’m going to need your help here,’ Núria said through gritted teeth.

The other woman stood attention. ‘I hear you Commander. You can count on me.’

They didn’t get very far without meeting with an obstacle. A portcullis blocked the way. A lever was somewhere up to the left, and a flight of stairs seemed to be leading there. The door on the upper landing was locked, however, and even though Núria managed to pick it, it wouldn’t budge. There was another door on the right side, and since the only other way was back, this had to do.

They had barely stepped through the door when Núria stopped abruptly. A man – a mage! – was standing there, flames flowing out of his hands at a hurlock. At his feet lay more of them, but he didn’t seem to bear as much as a scratch. When the creature fell dead on top of the others, he started shaking the heat out of his hands and turned around. He froze when he saw them. ‘Er … I didn’t do it.’ Núria gaped at him. ‘Oh don’t get me wrong. I’m not broken up about them dying, to be perfectly honest. Biff there made the funniest gurgle when he went down.’

Núria followed where he pointed with her eyes and found a templar half hidden under the dead darkspawn. She blinked. ‘Not too fond of them, huh?’

‘Oh, I know, I know. _Most_ people enjoy being kicked in the head to be woken up each morning. Me, I’m just so picky. You may call me Anders, my dear lady. I am a mage, and, sadly, a wanted apostate.’

‘You’re … oh.’ Núria glanced at the templar. ‘Well, how very convenient that they’re dead … Not by your hand?’

‘No, the darkspawn did that,’ Anders insisted, and she nodded slowly, thinking of Jowan and deciding that she didn’t really care who had killed them. ‘Tell you what. I’ll help you, and we discuss what comes later … later, once all these bastards are properly put down, yes?’

Núria forced a smile onto her face. ‘Yes. Do you know how to get past that portcullis?’

‘Indeed! Just follow me.’

Anders led them around the building on an outside walkway. They entered on the other side and found a barricaded door and the path to the lever clear. They fought their way deeper and deeper into the keep, finding a scared woman hiding in a tiny storage room, and then – a dwarf, fighting five darkspawn all by himself, swinging a huge axe in a full circle and felling two of them at once. ‘Oghren!’ Núria called out loudly and ran to aid him.

Oghren leered at her as he swung his blade around to behead another darkspawn. ‘When these showed up, I thought, “just you wait until the new commander gets here and you’ll all be spitting teeth out of your arses.” Followed the screaming, and sure enough, here you are. Good on ya!’

‘What … are you doing here in the first place?’ Núria asked.

Oghren pulled himself up to his full height – not that this was very much. ‘Came here thinking I’d try my hand at becoming a bona fide Grey Warden.’

‘He was here when I left,’ Mhairi said contemptuously. ‘I can’t believe the wardens didn’t kick him out.’

Núria couldn’t blame her for thinking so, but she had seen the dwarf in action in the deep roads. Maybe this was an excellent idea. ‘Yes … well, let’s kick those things out then.’

Oghren clapped her shoulder with almost enough force to knock her off-balance.

Only a short way further along they found a dying man, babbling of talking darkspawn. Oghren dismissed him as delirious, and truly, what else should he be? The archdemon had talked in a way, but not in a language a person could understand – with older Grey Wardens as the only exception. Still, it was with apprehension that they headed to the battlements of Vigil’s Keep.

What they saw nearly curdled Núria’s blood. The darkspawn was indeed talking, and he had a captive. If it hadn’t been so real, she would have dismissed this as a bad dream, born from the shock that Zevran had left her. But this was no dream. ‘Be taking this one, gently,’ the darkspawn said to one of its companions. ‘We are wishing no more death than is necessary.’ Even if darkspawn _did_ talk, this didn’t sound like one of the most likely things to be said by them.

‘Others will come, creature,’ the captive man said. ‘They will stop you.’

‘It is talking,’ Anders breathed, sounding quite delighted.

Oghren hefted his two-hander. ‘Well, let’s shut it up already.’ Mhairi followed close behind him.

Núria grabbed Anders by his sleeve. ‘You and I take the other two to give them some space.’

The mage nodded. ‘Great plan. I have a better one. You do that, I keep you all safe. Oh well, don’t listen to me then. Why would you.’ With a slight sigh he took aim at Oghren and flung a powerful healing spell on him.

Somehow, even the captive survived the battle, even though he’d had a blade at his throat. ‘Commander,’ he said, getting to his feet from the kneeling position he had been held in. ‘I owe you my life. I am Varel, the seneschal of Vigil’s Keep.’ He glanced down the battlements. ‘Hmm, soldiers on the road. It seems we have more company. Hopefully they’re more hospitable than our previous guests.’

‘If they’re not, I’d rather face them outside than up here,’ Núria said. ‘Let’s hurry.’ Without looking if the others were following, she ran back to where they had come from. It didn’t take long to figure out the approaching soldiers weren’t darkspawn. Much rather it was Alistair with a few men and a templar. Núria knelt when she recognised him, and Varel did the same after a moment.

‘It looks like I’ve arrived a bit late,’ Alistair said. ‘Too bad. I rather miss the whole darkspawn-killing thing.’

Núria felt a lot like rising and hugging him, but she refrained. The only one who wouldn’t have asked her if she was insane were Alistair himself and Oghren.

‘King Alistair!’ Mhairi said in surprise, finally kneeling herself. Núria grinned. It wasn’t as though Mhairi hadn’t seen him in Denerim.

‘I wanted to come and give the wardens a formal welcome,’ Alistair announced with a frown. ‘I certainly wasn’t expecting this. What’s the situation?’

It was Varel who replied. ‘What darkspawn remained have fled, your Majesty. The Grey Wardens who had arrived from Orlais appear to be either dead or … missing.’

‘Missing?’ Alistair echoed, looking at Núria. ‘As in taken by the darkspawn? Do they even do that?’

‘I do not know, your Majesty,’ Varel said. ‘I know only that we cannot account for all the wardens.’

Alistair nodded. ‘I see. At least the Hero of Ferelden is still here, and alive. That’s something, right?’

‘Looks like you’ll need to rejoin the wardens after all,’ Núria told him without any hope that he would.

Alistair offered a weak grin. ‘Toss the throne aside, spend my time adventuring at your side just like old times? Very tempting.’ He sighed. ‘You have quite the task ahead of you. Really, I’d like to help you fight darkspawn, but you’re on your own for the moment.’

‘Hey!’ Oghren shouted. ‘What am I? Chopped nug livers?’

‘From the smell, that’s not a bad guess,’ Anders said softly.

‘I came here to join the Grey Wardens,’ Oghren insisted, ‘and from the looks of it you could use the extra hands. Where’s the giant cup? I’ll gargle and spit.’

‘As long as you swallow at least a bit,’ Núria said. ‘You’ll be welcome among us.’

‘Ha!’ Oghren made with a grin. ‘Well smack my ass and call me Sally. I’m in!’

Mhairi closed her eyes in a suffering expression. ‘I … suppose all are welcome, in this dire time.’

Anders clapped the dwarf on the shoulder. ‘Joining the wardens, hey? Well, good luck with that.’

The templar beside Alistair blinked at Anders for a moment before she took a step forwards. ‘King Alistair! Your Majesty beware! This man is a dangerous criminal.’

Something cold clenched around Núria, something like fear mixed with anger. Alistair hadn’t even so much as glanced at Anders. ‘Oh, the dwarf is a bit of an arse, but I wouldn’t go that –’

‘She means me,’ Anders replied in a tired tone.

‘This is an apostate we were in the process of bringing back to the Circle to face justice!’

‘Oh please,’ Anders sighed. ‘The things you know about justice would fit into a thimble. I’ll just escape again, anyhow.’

‘Never! I’ll see you hanged for what you’ve done here, murderer!’

‘No!’ Somehow Núria had got to her feet. It was all she could do not to attack the woman. ‘Not _again_!’

Alistair blinked at her. ‘Again?’

Núria took a deep breath. ‘You will not … I do not allow … I conscript him!’ She looked up at Alistair with a challenging glare.

‘What?’ the templar gasped. ‘Never!’

Alistair turned slowly on the spot to look at the woman. ‘I believe the wardens still retain the Right of Conscription, no? I will allow it.’ He smiled at Núria.

‘Gonna be a Grey Warden, eh?’ Oghren asked with a leer. ‘Good luck with that, mage.’

Anders shook himself out of a reverie it seemed. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘Me, a Grey Warden? I guess that will work.’

‘Then if you have everything under control, I will have to take my leave,’ Alistair said with a slight wink at Núria. He knew as well as she did that he had no right to stop her conscripting Anders any more than the templar, and they also both knew that there had been a time when he would have asked her if she had gone mad. It was a mark of the trust that had formed between them somewhere between Redcliffe and Denerim that the former templar even smiled at the apostate before he left again.

 

 


	5. Trading

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((So here I go and deviate very slightly from the game. Nothing much. Just a matter of who and when that’s different.))

_Zevran_

 

Of course Niades hadn’t been all alone. Zevran found a few of his Crows, and when he thought he had unearthed and disposed of all who knew Niades’ plan, he found someone who was vaguely familiar. Someone who belonged to his former master, and who had probably nothing to do with Niades … unless he had been spying on him. He had the poor soul at his mercy, when suddenly it struck him that murdering him was perhaps not the best solution. A smile formed on his lips. ‘How would you like to survive?’ he asked, and the Crow blinked up at him with fear in his eyes. ‘You return to Antiva, to your master, with a message from me. I am not worth the effort. I had Niades jump to his death for fear of me. I have killed all those who were here with him. I will kill everyone else who tries to take on me. I’m no longer a Crow, and they had better leave me alone. This isn’t Antiva, and Vigil’s Keep is not a castle they could even dream of infiltrating. Tell him to leave me well alone and take that price off my head for doing him the favour to get rid of Niades.’

The man nodded eagerly. ‘I’ll tell him everything you say.’

Zevran glared at him. ‘And now, before you go, you tell _me_ something. Who else, besides Niades, wants the Warden Commander dead?’

The Crow gave him a look that said very clearly that he had no clue what he was talking about. ‘Who else?’

‘Oh, never mind then. I didn’t think you’d know.’

He left the shaking man to himself and pondered the last thing Niades had said to him … Had he only tried to bait him? Even the smuggler hadn’t known anything about someone else being after any wardens, although he had suggested he seek out a man who went by the name of the Dark Wolf and who seemed to know everything about everyone. The smuggler had been unwilling to arrange a meeting, but he had agreed to put word out that the red-headed Antivan wanted to talk to him. They had agreed on a sign of a place to meet, and Zevran had felt horribly stupid for ramming a stolen pitch-fork into a tree in the middle of the night. He slunk around the place every evening, but for what seemed an eternity, no one showed up. One night a guard walked up to him, but something about his uniform just wasn’t right. Full of anticipation, Zevran stared at the man approaching him.

‘The man responsible for taking a load off the shoulders of the city, I take it,’ the guard said.

‘Is that so?’ Zevran asked. ‘You’re a resident of Amaranthine?’

‘I might be. You want to speak to me? I am not a Crow, if that is what you think.’

‘If that were the case, you’d be dead already. No, you’re a man who is said to know things of importance. For example who might have an interest in killing the Warden Commander.’

A dry laugh sounded from behind the false guard’s steel helmet. ‘Besides all the nobles?’

Zevran blinked. ‘What would the nobles want her dead for?’

‘Because Arl Howe granted them favours, some of them very great, and this warden is likely to be less easily … bought,’ the man replied. ‘But there might be one particular person with an interest in getting back on her. The only thing is, I do not generally give information for free.’

‘Fair enough,’ Zevran offered. ‘But since you know already, you cannot charge too much, either.’

‘In this matter my interest is not in gold. I need an assassin.’

Zevran raised his eyebrows. ‘Now if one name is worth my skills depends on the target. If it’s easy, then yes. Otherwise, you’ll get a discount.’

‘Not a difficult target, no,’ the man answered lightly. ‘Only it must look like it was suicide.’

Zevran smiled. ‘Who is the target, and who do I have to fool? Just his family or the city watch?’

‘The target is just some man,’ the wolf replied. ‘If his family get suspicious, the authorities must believe it to be suicide too.’

Zevran sighed. ‘Have you ever assassinated anyone?’

‘No,’ the so-called wolf answered. ‘I am many things, and I have blood on my hands, but I am not an assassin.’

‘I thought so. What do you think is the best way to disguise murder as suicide?’ The other man simply shrugged. ‘To convince someone to kill themselves. This is not something that works for everybody, but some have a weakness that makes them vulnerable enough to lay hands on themselves if it is done right. It wouldn’t be the first time for me to manage this, but it would also not be the first time I have to resort to cruder methods, either. Do I have a time limit for this?’

‘How much time would you need? I can tell you a great weakness of his. The man is banging his sister. Seems to love her, too. Can you make something of that?’

‘That depends. If he’s the type to succumb to threats, maybe. If he cares for himself too much, there won’t be any way to make him do this. But it is a start and will save me time. The thing is, though he may not be difficult to kill, this is not an easy thing to do. I will not do it for just a name. Fifty sovereigns and your reasons.’

’Since when does an assassin need a reason?’ the Dark Wolf asked.

‘Well, since when does an assassin only want a name and fifty sovereigns?’ Zevran retorted. ‘Look, I could simply torture you into telling me that name, and trust me, I would manage. Now, if I kill someone for a song I want to know what he has to die for. Unless you wish to pay me a more reasonable amount of gold?’

The other man huffed. ‘It’s very simple. He knows who I am.’

Zevran laughed softly. ‘Oh, well, that is understandable then. We have a deal. Now tell me the name.’

‘First the target.’

Zevran rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t think so. I need the name at once. Otherwise you have to find another assassin.’

His reluctant informant growled under his helmet. ‘Well, anyone by the name of Howe could be it. I hear the only surviving son of the former arl has returned from the Free Marches. Nathaniel. He was in contact with the Crows, too, although he didn’t see overly much of them. I think it most likely that he is your man. About your target you will know all you need to know tomorrow. I will leave a letter at your hostess.’ Huffing softly, the wolf disappeared behind a corner and Zevran frowned slightly. If this Howe was anything like his father he might be a handful.

Ϡ

Despite his hurry to find Nathaniel Howe, Zevran tried to get close enough to his other quarry to find out if there was any chance of success for what he planned. If not, it wouldn’t be much of a problem, but it could be much easier if he worked carefully enough. He soon found the Dark Wolf’s information to be right. The bastard was bedding his own sister, more often than his wife it seemed. Otherwise he was quite inconspicuous and would probably not be missed by anyone important and definitely not by anyone who could afford to hire help. That would make things easier if Zevran had to kill him after all.

Finding Howe was more difficult. It looked like anyone by that name had to live the life of an outcast. What bothered Zevran about this was not so much the unfairness of it but the fact that it made it hard to find any Howe. He stumbled across a related woman, but she was peacefully married to a merchant. Nathaniel however seemed to have introduced himself only to criminals. So, once again, Zevran had to talk to the smugglers.

Their leader was getting slightly annoyed about Zevran’s frequent questioning, but after a while he yielded the information that he hadn’t seen the man for a few days. In the end it turned out that he had left the city the day before. Chances were that he had made for Vigil’s Keep, so Zevran would have to follow.

After Zevran had made sure that his target did not plan to disappear while he was away – for he had every intention to complete the job he had received – he mounted the horse he had adopted in Denerim and set out for the keep. Rumours had reached Amaranthine that the Hero of Ferelden had conquered it from darkspawn, but this was a completely ridiculous thing to believe. Probably she just got into a row with the Orlesians. The people he had talked to were not precisely what one would consider a reliable source of information – at least not when it came to anything but intrigues. With every mile his excitement grew. Once Howe was taken care of, he would find Núria and explain everything to her. He still had Niades’ note, she would understand and hopefully forgive him. He wondered if he should ask for an audience or if he should just go and find her. Perhaps both. He wanted to know how she was doing, and it was entirely possible that her pride wouldn’t allow her to show if things were getting to her.

At the entrance of Vigil’s Keep, Zevran was stopped by a nervous looking soldier. He explained to him that he was a merchant in Amaranthine who wanted to have a look at the village. They discussed for a while if it would be of any use for him to set up business here, and he learned to his dismay that the keep had indeed been infiltrated by darkspawn. He also heard that the Warden Commander had saved the day by slaughtering them all.

Zevran was angry he hadn’t been there. He wanted to kill Niades all over again, slowly and painfully, for keeping him from her in such a time, but this wasn’t an option. Without criminals, it was much more difficult to find Howe. No one had seen anyone, but if this man was skilled he might have been able to slip past the soldiers. They were fighters, not made to guard a place.

Vigil’s Keep itself impressed him. He had imagined something like the Royal Palace in Denerim, but this was entirely different. Where the former was pompous with turrets and elaborate decorations on the outside walls, this was a plain stone block with walls as thick as three men, crenels, murdering holes, and two broad walkways at the outside of the fortress at about half the height, broad enough for four men at least to walk abreast. Zevran decided that this would indeed be a place almost impossible to take by force. If the Crows should send anyone, they would have to work in very small groups if they wanted to be successful. This entire village was too well guarded for many people to enter unnoticed, not to mention the keep itself. After what had happened there would be guards in there, too.

Since he couldn’t find Howe, Zevran had to get help in his search. He alerted the soldiers that he had seen someone sneaking around at night, and promised to keep an eye out – in his own interest, he wouldn’t want thieves lurking where he wanted to trade, he claimed. He also talked to a private about an audience with the Warden Commander, but as a merchant he was not one of the most important people that wanted to speak to her. He could leave a letter for her, she offered, but he refrained. If she was very mad at him it would be best if she didn’t know who he was lest she denied him entrance.

On his third evening, Zevran sat near the gate and wondered what she was doing. Just taking a look how she was would be more than difficult at the moment. The soldiers were doing a good job at keeping anyone from getting into the fortress, and that, unfortunately, excluded him, too. His best hope was that they would be less careful once Howe was caught. A soft sound got his attention. He turned his head by a fraction and glanced in the general direction. It took him a few minutes to find anything, until –

Someone was trying to get closer to the entrance to the fortress. The guard beside the gate was too far away from it, talking to one of his colleagues in an undertone. Zevran caught his breath and watched. The figure moved extremely slowly. A bow was on his back, to Zevran’s surprise, but there was also a short glint of metal indicating a dagger. If he was good, he would be able to take the guards out before they could make a sound. His heart raced. If he shouted, the man would escape, knowing he was being watched. If he didn’t …

Zevran got to his feet as silently as a cat. He had to be both fast and quiet. The other man wasn’t making a sound, obviously he had noticed that he had been too loud before and was extra careful now. This made him slow, he didn’t seem to have as much practice as Zevran. The Antivan moved over to the merchants’ stands. They lay in complete darkness, no one would see a man who had decided to sleep under the moon. The night was warm enough to make this believable, too, and he _had_ announced he would look out for the sneak.

He reached the place undetected and inched towards the gate. He would only have to stop him from entering if the archer did manage to kill the two guards. Howe, if this was him, had other plans, though. He eyed the two men on the watch for a moment, then he seemed to decide that they were too deep in conversation to hear him. He started to pick the lock of the gate expertly, taking almost a minute before he managed to force it open. There hadn’t been a loud clicking sound, but Zevran used this moment to get out of his hiding place all the same. For a moment, the sneak-thief stared at him, then he started running. He crashed into the two soldiers, killing them both quickly with his dagger. Two more tried to stop him on his way and shared their fate, but they had slowed him. Zevran was not about to let him go. He had started after him at once and caught him just before he could leave. This man was no match for him, one of the soldiers had given him a deep wound. The sounds had alerted more guards, and when they were there, Zevran let go of the man. He advised them to put a watch who was allowed to kill him if he tried anything before his cell and went to sleep.

Two days later, Zevran heard that in a week he could speak with the commander. The guards were returning to watching the entrance to the settlement rather than anything behind the walls, and Zevran waited for an opportunity to sneak into the keep. He wouldn’t even need long, he just wanted to see that Núria was fine. Speaking to her could wait until the arranged audience. Then he would go back to Amaranthine to complete his job there, and when that was done, he could return and do as he had promised: help recruiting and training fresh wardens with his love.

 

 


	6. Beyond Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Hrm. Song title again. HIM. And it fits as well.))

_Núria_

 

The Joining Ceremony was held by Varel. He had been granted this honour by the Orlesians, and Núria had no interest in taking the privilege from him. It wasn’t a pleasant thing to do, in her opinion. So she stood and watched as Varel handed the goblet containing the blood of darkspawn to Oghren. Her heart constricted as the dwarf took a deep swallow … drinking all the contents of the goblet in one go. She prayed silently for him to survive this … and he did no more than belch and step back, staggering slightly. Varel looked unhappy, but Núria couldn’t help grinning. There was probably nothing Oghren couldn’t stomach.

Anders took the news of what he had to drink with levity but braced himself visibly. He collapsed, but he was breathing. He would live.

Mhairi looked as eager as ever. But when she had swallowed a gulp of the blood, she had a coughing fit, and Núria knew it was no good. It was like with Daveth, she knew this when she saw her eyes, turned back into her skull. The woman broke to the ground, twitching for only one moment before she went still. ‘I am sorry, Mhairi,’ Varel said, echoing Duncan, and Núria wished nothing more than to leave this room.

She wasn’t allowed time for herself after the Joining. Varel and two others had things for her to do, all of them in the city. Merchants, hunters who said they had found a cave full of darkspawn, and a missing warden … All of this was up to her. And then, when she stepped out into the open for a breath, a private informed her of a prisoner who had been so hard to overcome that the guards said he should become a warden. When Núria announced that she would see him immediately, the private added that she had a couple of letters. It was quite a bundle, actually, and Núria asked her to send them to her quarters. Seeing her quiet evening going to the devil, she approached the dungeon with a defeated sigh. A guard was standing before the first cell, his eyes constantly on the man inside. The captive man’s weapons and armour lay in a crate, he was wearing only ragged clothes.

‘Who is this man?’ Núria asked the guard, but he shrugged.

‘Won’t say his name. Was taken by a merchant, of all things, after he killed four of the soldiers.’

‘And a merchant overwhelmed him?’

The guard grinned. ‘Yes, quite strange, isn’t it? Some red-headed foreigner. Who can tell with those?’

Núria shook her head and wondered if the soldiers needed exercise if they were outperformed by a merchant. But this question would have to wait. Perhaps she should recruit this merchant … Who knew? She stepped up to the cell and stared at the man inside. ‘So. What do we have here?’

‘If it isn’t the great hero, conqueror of the blight and vanquisher of all evil,’ the prisoner said, getting to his feet. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be ten feet tall? With lightning bolts shooting out of your eyes?’ The contempt in his voice couldn’t be missed.

Núria glared at him. ‘Who are you?’

‘I am Nathaniel Howe. My family owned these lands until you showed up. Do you even remember my father?’

Núria looked towards the ceiling. ‘Let me think … slimy fellow, held the queen hostage, and was part of all Loghain’s revolting designs. Why, yes, I think I do.’

Nathaniel Howe’s eyes flared. ‘So how is it that whatever he might have done harms my whole family? The Howe’s are pariahs now, those of us left. It’s all thanks to you. And now you get to decide my fate. Ironic, isn’t it?’

‘If you’re not allowed here anymore, what were you doing? Stealing? Is that why you were taken by a merchant, of all people?’

‘Merchant, my arse. If that was a merchant, I’m a mage. Popped up out of the shadows, then he ran after me faster than a hare. That was a veritable devil, not a merchant.’

‘Looks like we have to practice this,’ Núria said. ‘Let’s try again: What were you doing here?’

‘I wanted to kill you,’ Howe replied coolly. ‘But getting back some of my family’s things would be good as well.’

‘What do you do if I let you go?’ Núria asked in a soft but dangerous voice.

‘I don’t know. I might return, though.’

Núria stepped closer to his cell. ‘I do not recommend you to try,’ she whispered before she turned to the guard. ‘Get him out of my sight. If he tries anything, kill him.’ She took his belongings in her arms and stared at him. ‘You’re not getting those back. I want you unarmed if you should return. And I promise, if you do, you’re dead, even if you get yourself an entire arsenal in the meantime.’

Ϡ

Núria found the letters in her room all right. She sorted through them, deciding that anything concerning trade should be for the seneschal to handle. She had no knowledge of this kind of thing, and neither of organising training sessions for archers and others. She would train some of the soldiers, but she still couldn’t handle a bow if her life depended on it. She would be no use there.

One letter was without a sender, and Núria opened it with a slight frown.

 

_Commander,_

_I am not planning to take away much of your time, but I thought you should know at least the basics of the problems I am facing. You have to be aware of these things to understand why I will need time for my task._

_Truth be told, we know next to nothing of the Tranquil. We know that the Rite of Tranquility has to do with lyrium. It severs a mage’s connection to the Fade. Thus, they cannot dream. Thus, they cannot feel. Or so we are told._

_Dwarves do not enter the Fade in their sleep. Fittingly, they do not have mages. But they feel. Somewhere, there’s a lie in what the templars say._

_I have tried talking to a few of the Tranquil, asking very carefully. It seems that they do not know how they became Tranquil. I cannot believe they would lie about this. If they were forbidden to tell, they would say that rather than claim they do not know._

_Now why do they not remember? Is the memory taken from them by the templars? I doubt it. I doubt if they have this power. A blood mage would be able to do this, but to believe they secretly have blood mages assisting them would be very far-fetched indeed. The only thing I can imagine is that something is done to them_ in _the Fade, something to separate them from it. Then they would no more remember it than a dream, perhaps._

_I have wondered if it would not be advantageous to approach Irving about this. He knows more than any others, and he wasn’t happy about Jowan’s fate. However, I also remember what transpired the last time I talked to him about something I should have kept to myself. I would have to know that you support me in my efforts to risk this. As horrible as it is to see my friend so empty every single day, I do not wish to stand next to him._

_Now before you ask: No, the templars do not read our letters. Neither the ones we send nor those we receive. Please let me know how far you want to be involved in this matter. And if you happen to meet a mage you can trust with this, tell them about it as well. You should make sure they’re not loyalists, though. Ask them, they’re normally quite outspoken. Say you heard that there are fractions of mages, and they’ll probably inform you of their views rather willingly._

_Aisling_

Núria decided that the only mage she could ask would probably find the idea delightful. She had no knowledge of magic at all, even theoretical, but she had learned long ago that it could be extremely useful and had no fear of magic as such – or mages, for that matter.

A light rap on her door brought her out of her thoughts. She opened quickly, looking into the face of the private who had stood outside before. ‘Commander, Seneschal Varel is awaiting you in the throne room.’

‘I will be allowed to sleep at night, won’t I?’ Núria asked slightly impatiently but followed her downstairs all the same, stuffing Aisling’s letter into a pocket. She also took the bag of Slakeweed Leliana had returned to her with her. If she found Anders, she would have a word with him.

The throne room was crowded with what had to be nobles. Anders was talking to Oghren in an undertone a short way from them, wearing a constant frown. Núria approached the seneschal and raised her brows at him. ‘The lords of Amaranthine have come to swear fealty to you and the wardens,’ he explained. ‘These were Arl Rendon Howe’s vassals. Now they will be yours.’

Núria sighed. ‘And just how far can I trust them?’

‘Not all of them bore him love, Commander,’ Varel replied in an undertone, ‘but others had their prospects ruined with his demise. Tread carefully.’

Núria nodded curtly and waited for each of them to bow and swear to be faithful to her. One of them sounded particularly bored, others less so, but the entire affair lacked enthusiasm. After the ceremony Núria talked to some of the nobles and learned of a dispute about whether soldiers should guard the farmlands or the city. Núria found the argument that without corn all would die rather convincing and agreed to have the farmland protected. Bann Esmerelle of the city scoffed.

When the nobles started to clear out, just as Núria wanted to step out of the hall, she was stopped by a gentle hand on her arm. ‘I have to tell you something, Commander,’ Anders said softly. ‘Come with me.’ He led her upstairs to his quarters, where he looked left and right in the corridor before he pulled her inside. ‘Look, I’m not sure how much to make of it, but these nobles … they were gathered in the alcove, talking.’

‘What did they say?’

‘I couldn’t hear much,’ Anders explained. ‘Something something “must be dealt with”. Something something “all in agreement”. Not much to go on, I grant you. But they were being furtive, and I sense they were trying to remain concealed from you.’

‘What do you make of it?’

‘I believe some of these nobles seek a convenient end to a messy problem. The problem being you. Perhaps the seneschal has some advice how to deal with this.’

Núria huffed. ‘I’ll talk to him, but I’m very willing to say let them conspire. I’m not scared so easily.’ She fumbled in a pocket and produced Aisling’s letter. ‘Um, Anders, would you care to answer a few questions for me?’

The mage blinked at her. ‘Of course, Commander.’

Núria glared at him. ’Stop calling me that, it’s confusing. I never know who you’re talking to.’

Anders grinned at her. ‘Very well, Arl Tabris,’ he said with a small bow.

Núria couldn’t help grinning back at him. ‘Oh, right. Change of subject. Two – no, three questions. The first is … Um, _are_ you a maleficar? I mean, I’m not going to turn you in if you are. I just want to know.’

Anders sat on a chair and looked at her. ‘That depends. Did I read things about blood magic out of curiosity? Yes I did, and you will find barely a mage who didn’t. Did I try, say, extinguishing a candle by this means, just to see if it works? Yep, once. Did I then get so scared I could get caught that I never even thought of trying anything more? Yeees! Absolutely. So, am I a maleficar? You tell me.’

Núria sat next to him. ‘Look, Anders, I wouldn’t be sitting here if it weren’t for someone who used a ritual that counts as blood magic to save me. A small child would have been killed without another maleficar’s help, and his reward was Tranquility. What I have seen of blood magic was eerie and dangerous, but evil? One person died to save another. Without magic, it happens all the time in war and no one cares. So what’s the big difference?’

Anders rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘The big difference is that blood magic can be abused. All magic can, but this most often is not used out of kindness. You can force someone to do your will, for example you could force your neighbour to murder your enemies. He would never know why he did it, but would be the one considered guilty because there would be no trace leading to you. If you have a few slaves at your disposal, you can use their lives for your spells, killing them not to save someone else but to just have your way. Most blood mages don’t use their powers for altruism.’

Núria nodded. ‘I’ve seen mages drain themselves of their mental power. Could they use blood magic to keep going?’

‘They could. Are you saying I may?’

‘Yes, if you can assure me that using blood magic will not make you susceptible to being controlled by demons.’

Anders chuckled. ‘Nonsense. I’ll keep it in mind, but I don’t like cutting myself much. I wouldn’t normally do that if I don’t have to, and if I were to cut others for my spells I would cross a line I’d rather stay well away from. But you had another question?’

‘Yes … do you know how to make a Tranquil a mage again?’

Anders’s eyes widened and he leaned closer. ‘I don’t know if that’s even possible.’ Núria handed him the letter and he read it quickly. ‘Jowan,’ he said softly, ‘and Aisling. I tutored him once. Tried to teach him healing spells. I remember that one time he tried to heal a rat they’d caught for practising. He blew it to smithereens. He got better, but never good at that. And Aisling had a thing for the spirit school.

‘I remember Jowan escaped, but they brought him back and … Hang on, he’s the maleficar you knew, right?’ Núria nodded. ‘Poor, blundering idiot. Never did anything right in his life. If the templars hadn’t been breathing down his neck all the time he would never have hurt a soul. I told them to leave him alone once. Got a beating for that. Ah, the good times.’ Anders looked very intently at Núria. ‘Look, Jowan is – was – a good mage, really good, as long as he didn’t try to heal things. He’d be a real asset if you’d just let him do his thing. I just don’t think that Aisling will find out much. I could correspond with her, perhaps I can help her. She was a good learner, but she doesn’t understand the underlying forces like … well, Irving. But tell her not to talk to him, at least not yet. You’ll need him and Greagoir in the end, but they need not know already. I’ll contact her, if you’re fine with that.’

Anders was on the receiving end of Núria’s first genuine smile since Zevran had gone. ‘Perfectly fine. One more question. What precisely does this do? Mages are supposed to know all about herbs.’ She handed Anders the Slakeweed and a grin spread on his face.

He closed his eyes and sniffed it deeply, then he took some between his fingers, trying the texture. ‘Oooh, you’re a constant source of surprises. This was forbidden in Ferelden for a long time, and it’s still frowned upon. It’s used against pain sometimes, for mages, for example. Magical injuries hurt like hell, you know. We don’t use it as a drug mostly, although some do if they feel they can reach the Fade more easily then. It’s forbidden at exams, because it really helps. Not as directly as lyrium, but all the same. Have you ever … used this before?’

Núria nodded. ‘As a painkiller. In a tea.’

Anders huffed. ‘Tea … pfft. Give me a minute.’ He buried himself in his things. ‘One of these … ah, I knew it.’ He produced a pipe and presented it proudly to Núria. ‘One of the templars was polluting the air with this thing so constantly that I took it from him. He suspected me but couldn’t find it. I only don’t have any other equipment. Oh, never mind.’

‘You’re not going to smoke this stuff, are you?’ Núria asked suspiciously.

‘No, I was going to put some into the pipe and chew a bit on its end,’ Anders replied, stuffing the pipe with his fingers. ‘ _We_ are going to smoke this. If you don’t let me call you commander we can just as well, um, smoke to friendship, for lack of wine.’ A small flame danced on the tip of Anders’s forefinger, and he grinned. ‘Magic is great, isn’t it?’ He lit the pipe taking a few quick breaths to get it going. ‘Have you ever smoked a pipe?’ he asked, and Núria shook her head. ‘Me neither, but from what I’ve heard if you wait long it will go out, and if you’re too quick or so it will grow hot. And don’t breathe in or you’ll cough out your lungs. Just take the smoke into your mouth and let it out again after a moment. You can breathe in the smoke you let escape, that’s not supposed to be that bad. Or so. And don’t swallow. Saw a bloke puking his guts out after he tried that.’

Núria stared at Anders. ‘What were you doing in that tower of yours?’

Anders laughed. ‘What were we doing when no one was looking, that’s your question, right?’ He handed the pipe to Núria with a grin. ‘There you go. Slow and careful. And _I_ never did anything, but I had the nutters in my room doing things when I was an apprentice. I just got the … leftovers of the smoky air, and on bad evenings that wasn’t much better. See, careful and you don’t cough.’

Núria started thinking quickly that this had been a mistake. When she had drunk that tea in the alienage, she had felt her pain subsiding, but her confidence had grown. Now the feeling of loss increased with every moment. She started pouring her heart out to Anders, who listened intently, his brow furrowed like a dog’s, and then he embraced her, kissed her. And when normally she would have pushed him away, Núria responded, leaning in, allowing him to touch her all over, to manoeuvre her to his bed. Only when she was on her back with him leaning above her just about to enter he, she came to her senses and bolted.

It didn’t take more than a few hours for the fuzzy feeling in her head to subside. Just when she was about to go to sleep, hoping she would not remember any of this in the morning, there was a soft knock on her door. Núria froze and was silent. ‘Look, I think we should talk,’ Anders’s voice came from outside. ‘Just a minute. I won’t do anything.’ Reluctantly, Núria opened and allowed him in. Her face went beet red the moment she saw him, and he didn’t look much less embarrassed. ‘I just … see here, I know what this was, and I swear I’ll never try anything. This was a bad idea. If I’d known you’re … mourning, I wouldn’t have suggested this. Let’s just start over tomorrow and forget that incident.’

Núria nodded, put her face in her hands and waited for Anders to leave.

Ϡ

After a few days the blushing decreased whenever she was faced with Anders. The mage was holding himself much better, his easy jokes spilling from his mouth like ever, and slowly she started feeling comfortable near him again. She didn’t even feel attracted to him. He was a _shemlen_ , a handsome man for his race, but he simply wasn’t Zevran.

She was waiting for the last person who had an audience that day: a merchant, doubtlessly wanting special conditions for his trade. Well, he would get the same answer as everyone. A soldier was standing inside the room for safety, something Varel had insisted on after she had announced to him that some nobles seemed to be conspiring against her. Núria sorted letters when a man stepped in. She didn’t look up at once. ‘You’re a merchant?’ she asked. ‘Look, you cannot charge more than always, and you cannot have an extra discount for the wares we … Maker’s mercy.’ Her eyes had finally moved to the person in front of her, and she dropped the letters she had been about to set aside.

The soldier stepped forwards at once. ‘Should I remove the man?’

Núria shook herself visibly. ‘No … no, you … Leave us.’ There was such a firm note of finality to her voice that the soldier departed at once. Núria couldn’t help grinning. ‘Red-headed devil, right … You … What did you do to your face?’ She jumped to her feet and ran around her desk towards the man in front of her. He looked unfamiliar, but there was no mistaking him. Only when she stood an arm’s length from him she saw a hard glint in his eyes and refrained from hugging him to her. ‘What have you come here to tell me?’ she asked instead, wondering why he looked so – what was it? Angry?

‘What I planned to tell you originally was that I had left because of this,’ he said, handing her a note in an unfamiliar hand. ‘What I am here to tell you now is that I am sorry it turned out like this, but that I understand you’ve moved on.’

‘What?’ Núria asked, uncomprehending. She read the note quickly. ‘Did you find who sent this?’

‘Indeed. And now I will bid you farewell properly. Greet your mage from me. I am not going to harm your new find.’

Núria glared at Zevran. ‘You were watching us? Then you know that nothing happened.’

‘I didn’t wait for the show to end, my dear,’ Zevran said in a taunting tone that cut her like a dagger.

Núria swallowed hard. ‘I left. I left in time.’

Zevran raised his eyebrows. ‘So you claim. Good bye, Grey Warden. And good luck to you.’

He turned to leave, and for a moment Núria was frozen. Then she darted after him, grabbing his shoulders. She slammed him into the wall with all the force she had and wrenched a dagger from a small sheath at his belt. He didn’t even fight back when she put it to his throat. ‘You’re calling me a liar and a whore?’

All anger was gone from Zevran’s face, but the sadness in his eyes made her only wilder. ‘You can do this, but you’ll regret it. I know what I’m saying.’

Núria’s hand started trembling and she pulled away. ‘So this is it? You return to me, just to inform me you’re abandoning me all over again, for _almost_ making a mistake. Why couldn’t you just stay well away from me? Or is that your idea of punishment?’

Zevran shook his head. ‘You made your choice.’

‘How dare you judge me, you of all people?’ Núria asked loudly. ‘I was drugged, and I fled before Anders … before we … Oh, Maker. I made my choice when I left. I love you, you complete fool.’ She threw her arms up for emphasis and took a few steps away from him, waiting for the sound of a closing door.

Instead, she heard a very soft question. ‘Do you?’ Núria turned to look back at her Antivan and nodded, fixing her eyes to his. ‘Then … I apologise for what I will do now. I am not sure if I believe you and if I can trust you. I have to figure that out. Until I have, I will leave. Also I’ve got to get this … picture out of my head. For now, you are officially a free agent.’

‘Zev, please,’ Núria said softly, approaching him again, but he shook his head.

‘I have business in the city,’ he said. ‘After that, I don’t know where I’ll go, but do not look for me. I will let you know when … _if_ I can return. It would not be fair to stay and find out that I cannot … forget this. Good bye, my love. You will hear from me.’

 

 


	7. The Force of Circumstance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I chose this title very much for lack of some sort of inspiration ... It’s a short story about a woman who does what Zev said he wouldn’t do: Stay with her husband just to find out that she can’t forgive. Or so I believe, for it might also be a short story about a man killing someone and sending bits of his victim to his friends as Christmas presents. I do not recall what the other of the two stories was called, so I might be confusing them.))

_Zevran_

 

It was good that he had left, Zevran convinced himself as he rode away from Vigil’s Keep at breakneck speed. When he had watched Núria and Anders he had felt a strong urge to kill them both, but the moment he had resolved to do just that, the image of another woman dead at his feet had stayed his hand and he had fled. Núria claiming she loved him and hadn’t done what she was accused of was another painful reminder of his past. It cost him all his strength not to turn around and find her, gather her in his arms, hold her firmly, and forgive everything that might or might not have happened. But the truth was, he couldn’t forgive yet, not as long as Anders sliding his hand between her legs was so vividly present before his mind’s eye. She had allowed this. Had she really left before he had taken her? He shook the question off. He had to ponder this, but not now. First, he had to clear his head.

Zevran had always found that a challenging job was the best way to get rid of unpleasant thoughts. The job he had received from the Dark Wolf seemed to be more complicated than he had thought at first. He wasn’t sure Karrem – his mark – was going to kill himself for anything. But the closer he got to him, the more he was convinced that he might. He seemed to care for his wife. It was ironic that he seemed to see her as a sister, though. Zevran found out that a man named Dirk was a good friend of Karrem’s, and a drinking companion to boot. He listened to them regularly in the Crown and Lion inn and learned that Karrem’s actual sister was going to visit soon. From what Dirk said he seemed to know of the sick relationship between the two and suggested taking Karrem’s wife for an extended walk in the moonlight. Zevran found them both disgusting, but only one of them concerned him.

He caught Alween, the sister, before she reached the city. He stopped her as she approached, stumbling onto the road, coughing like a drowning man and falling to his knees. She rushed to his side, looking worried. ‘Can I help you, dear man, are you ill?’

‘Darkspawn … in the city … best do not enter, there’s a quarantine,’ he gasped out. ‘No one allowed to enter before next month … Maker save us all.’

Alween took a step away from him. ‘The darkspawn are in the city? But … how can that be?’

Zevran shrugged and clutched at the hem of her dress with both hands. ‘Don’t know. Leave … leave, all are gone already save the brave guards.’

‘But my brother is in there!’

‘He’ll have left days ago, dear lady,’ Zevran urged her. He scrambled to his feet and gave her the most scaring look he could muster while he grabbed her wrists. ‘Leave … before I cannot control the disease any longer. Get away!’ He positively screamed those last words, and the poor woman went fleeing in the direction she had come from. Zevran followed a few steps before breaking down for effect. He waited for her to disappear before he rose, brushing dust off his clothes. He fondled a bracelet he had taken from her when he had held her arms and grinned. This hadn’t been part of the plan, but it would make things easier. Now he only had to wait for the evening.

Zevran waited in the Crown and Lion for his mark, drinking milk rather than liquor to keep his thoughts clear. His mind trailed off to Vigil’s Keep, to the look on Núria’s face as she had told him she loved him. She had looked so sad, and so sincere. She had never had much trouble admitting faults, so why would she start now? It was good that he had left, Zevran convinced himself as he sat at his table. Taliesen had been right after all, it seemed. He had gone soft.

The two men entered the inn and sat at their usual table. Zevran listened to their talk, noting the worry in Karrem’s voice about his sister’s absence. He also mentioned a run-down house he intended to buy and rebuild for him and his wife. Dirk commented that it was good that he moved his wife closer to him, but Zevran saw the grin on his face this time and knew he was only trying to bait his friend. Unsuccessfully, though, for Karrem merely kept wondering where Alween might have got.

Zevran waited patiently for the two men to clear out, then stayed for a little longer. After a while he paid and left for the dusk outside, walking to his hostess’s. She seemed to be asleep already, so he didn’t have to wait for her to turn in. He walked up to his room, changed into something black, including a cap that would cover his vivid hair, and lowered himself carefully to the street. He would get back the same way, there was a broad enough ledge between the two floors, and he had entered houses in more dangerous ways. He wondered briefly if he shouldn’t simply walk openly to his target, for he didn’t intend to stay in Amaranthine for long, but this was how he had planned it, and he had learned that changing plans in short notice almost always led to mistakes.

Zevran had considered breaking into Karrem’s house, but then had found it best to very simply wait until there was no one on the streets and knock the front door. So he lurked behind the house, waiting for a couple to amble past, sharing kisses and whispers on the way. Zevran had never before felt melancholy at such a sight, but now it made him sick with grief. Hating himself, he watched them walk by before he approached the door and rapped it firmly. It was good that he had left, Zevran convinced himself as he waited for someone to answer. Such feelings were bad for him and might ruin him as an assassin.

Karrem opened almost at once. Zevran almost felt sorry for him when he noticed the disappointed look on his face. ‘If you wish to know about your sister, come with me,’ he said softly. ‘And if you wish for your secret to remain … well, secret, you’ll do that at once and without a sound.’ Even the sentence was planned, including the slightly hesitant note to his voice. Karrem should think him some small time criminal. The shock to be faced with a professional would be only the greater. Karrem gave a curt nod, and Zevran led him to the house he had intended to refurbish. The advantage of this place was that it was so well outside town that no one was there at this time. Also, it was part of his plan.

‘What are we doing here?’ Karrem asked in barely more than a whisper. ‘Where is Alween? Is she safe?’

Zevran smirked. ‘I have Alween.’ He produced her bracelet from his pocket and handed it to Karrem. ‘Just in case you do not believe what I am saying. I have her at a safe enough place. If I do not return to her guards, telling them exactly what they want to hear, she will be killed. I take it you wouldn’t want that.’

Karrem blanched. ‘What do you want? I have no money I can offer you. Don’t hurt her, I beg you.’

Zevran’s lip curled. ‘Ah, _I_ will not touch a hair on her head. What hairs the guards touch while we’re negotiating I cannot say for sure of course. Stay well away from me, or you’re as dead as she will be if you’re not good.’ Karrem had steeled himself to attack Zevran, but the assassin glared at him until the man nodded and backed off. ‘The thing is, you have made a terrible mistake. If you know someone is a criminal trying not to get caught, threatening them is a bad idea. So this man has decided to get to you by cutting you where it hurts most. I had your sister taken. But she is not really the person who deserves to come to harm, and I suggested harming you instead. Here’s the deal. You open your own veins, and your sister can leave freely. You try to fight, run, or force me to do the killing, and she’ll die as well. Are we clear?’

‘Are you insane?’

‘You wish to be more quiet, or the guards might hear us,’ Zevran said calmly. ‘If I’m taken no one will tell _my_ guards to let your Alween go.’

‘You’re bluffing.’

‘How would I have this bracelet, then, fool?’ Zevran retorted. ‘Do you really wish to chance this? Look at it this way, then: Your life as you have known it is over from this moment forth. Should you manage to run or call the guards, trust me to ruin you. Thoroughly. I will not be captured, I’ve been in this business all my life. I will spread word, carefully, what you and your sister were doing. Eventually, the authorities will have you questioned. If you refuse to talk, they’ll ask your friends. And Dirk knows your secret. Don’t look so stunned, man, I’m not a beginner. He may be a loyal friend when life is good, but I do not think he’s bold enough to lie to a questioner who knows his business. And then you go to jail for your incestuous life, and your wife will know that you’re not only an adulterer, but that you were doing your own sister, of all the people in this world. Don’t try to fool me, I know you care for her. She doesn’t seem to be a very strong woman, though. What would this do to her?’

Karrem’s lower lip was trembling as he stared at the man before him. ‘What kind of person are you? You’re a monster!’

‘I am an Antivan Crow,’ Zevran said softly, and Karrem’s complexion changed from white to green. ‘Now do this quickly, before Alween’s time is up.’

‘You will not let her go anyway!’

‘I will, I promise that much. There is no reason to kill her. She believes she is in custody as a suspected smuggler. If you cooperate, she’ll be released because there was no evidence against her.’ Zevran produced a kitchen knife he had pinched at the Crown and Lion and two pieces of paper. He gave those to Karrem and told him to write two notes for anyone who might be looking for him. Zevran intended to place them directly before going to sleep. The man was trembling slightly, but not too badly to make his notes readable. When he was done, Zevran offered him the knife. He took it with a shaking hand and put it against his wrist. Zevran took hold of his hand and turned it by an angle. ‘If you want to be effective, you have to cut lengthwise,’ he explained patiently. It was no good. Karrem dropped the knife, sobbing. Zevran sighed. ‘Would you prefer to hang yourself?’ Karrem stared at him. ‘I’ll tie the knot for you, all you’ll have to do is jump down that table. I’m not a sadist, you’ll break your neck.’

‘You can do that?’ Karrem asked softly. The shaking subsided slightly.

Zevran nodded at him. ‘Yes, I can do that. I have no interest in torturing you.’ Zevran listened into himself as he prepared the rope for Karrem. He had thought he might be unable to do this, but apparently he wasn’t too soft to be a good assassin after all. Perhaps he was a little more patient than he had been … before. Though the revulsion towards Karrem had subsided he did not feel pity or a wish to let him go. He felt a strong wave of contentment when Karrem stood on the edge of the table and placed the loop around his neck. Zevran eyed his victim one last time. He wasn’t a strong man, his chances to die quickly were good.

‘I’m begging you, let me go, I’ll just leave and no one will be any the wiser,’ Karrem tried to plead.

‘My employer would, I’m afraid. Waiting will make it worse. Are you going to jump or should I push you?’

Karrem didn’t reply. He closed his eyes and let himself slip from the table. A cracking sound made it plain that Zevran’s work was done here.

Ϡ

The next morning Zevran’s hostess told him a guard had delivered a bag for him. It contained fifty sovereigns. Zevran decided to have a look at the chantry board. Chances were he could get some more gold there. He found a templar near it, quarrelling with a sister. ‘I’ll not have you ask for murderers on this board!’ the sister said fervently.

‘This is about stopping crime in the face of the Maker!’ the templar said with equal ardour. ‘Other chantries do that, too, ask for help against criminals.’

‘I will not have you cry for anyone’s blood! Without the express permission of the Revered Mother you will do nothing! And now leave me be! I have other things to do.’ The sister turned her back firmly to the templar and did nothing but glare the other way.

Zevran beckoned the armoured woman. ‘Could it be you need help?’

‘Maleficarum are wandering freely in this city,’ the templar said angrily. ‘They’re hiding amongst commoners, and they can spot us a mile off.’

Zevran smirked. ‘You could wear something more inconspicuous, could you not?’

The templar sighed. ‘Look … Would you take a look around the market district?’ She gave the two swords on his back a meaningful glance.

‘I guess I could. What kind of compensation could I expect for doing so?’

‘Twenty sovereigns. They appear to be mediocrities, but there must be someone organising them. Find this person, and you get your coin. How many others you meet on your way is of little matter, they’re no threat to an apt fighter.’

‘If they should turn out to be trouble I shall ask for more.’

The templar huffed. ‘Do that. Just … get rid of them.’

Zevran had barely set foot into the market, when he saw a curious bottle for sale. It seemed to contain a volatile fluid, at least as far as he could judge through the glass, of bluish-green colour. He approached and took it into his hand. ‘Scouring acid, foreign stuff, really expensive normally. Ten silvers the bottle.’

Zevran ignored the merchant and unscrewed the bottle. He held his nose over the neck, breathing out very slightly. Taking a deep noseful of an unknown substance was not something an assassin would do. Even so, the fumes seemed to send a bolt up his nostrils and right through his brain. ‘You can scour your throat with that. Make an explosive out of it, or use it as is as a poison. One drop in a glass of water will kill any man. The only disadvantage is that it must be ingested.’

The merchant looked offended. ‘This is not a poison, good ser, but I do not recommend eating soap either.’

Zevran sighed. ‘Trust me that this _is_ a poison. I know how to make it, so I should recognise it, too. Or do you wish me to ask the guards what they think of it?’ The merchant gaped at him. ‘Well, thanks then. I’ll keep that for now. Is there some … master merchant around?’

‘The guild master is downstairs,’ the merchant said sourly and turned to rummage pointedly in a crate.

Zevran found the guild master all right. He had barely held up the bottle of poison to him, when it was snatched out of his hand. ‘Be careful, dangerous substance,’ the harried-looking man said. ‘Maker knows who else is selling this …’

‘There’s more of that around?’ Zevran asked. ‘I was going to hand you what I … ah, confiscated. Where is this coming from, this isn’t something you normally get in Ferelden.’

‘It all started with this disgusting Crow arriving here. He’s dead now, guards found him some time back, but he gave these to the smugglers, and they’ve distributed them. I’m begging you, keep your eyes open for those.’

Zevran considered this for a moment before he nodded. ‘I’ll look around.’

An elven woman walked past him, muttering under her breath. He frowned at her slightly, and their eyes met. She gave a shriek and started running from him, muttering more violently. Violet lights started to dance between her fingertips. ‘Oh no, you don’t,’ Zevran shouted, darting after her with a dagger in his hand. An arrow from a city guard broke her concentration and gave him time to ram his blade into her chest.

The guard was on him in an instant. ‘Vigilantism will not be tolerated.’

‘A templar up at the Chantry told me about maleficarum in the city,’ he said angrily. ‘I’m working for her.’

The guard blinked. ‘Oh, then … thank you.’ He released Zevran. ‘We’ve got enough on our hands as is.’

‘I can see that,’ Zevran muttered.

He found three more maleficarum, one of them rather powerful. He had the kindness to bemoan his lost apprentices, so Zevran knew that he would be the mastermind the templar was looking for. He also unearthed four more bottles of poison for the guild master. When he was just about to return to his hostel, he saw a rather familiar looking man talking to two people Zevran had never really heeded before. ‘If you find her, tell me … I need to talk to her,’ he said slightly desperately and turned from them.

Zevran felt anger surge in his chest and approached the man he recognised as Nathaniel Howe when he was well out of anyone’s sight. ‘I don’t think so,’ he told him softly from behind him.

Howe spun around and stared at him. ‘You … what are you, a demon?’

‘Not quite,’ Zevran replied. ‘Since capturing you didn’t do much good, I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you.’

‘I do not wish to harm her! She let me go, I didn’t even break out.’ By the look on his face, he didn’t understand this. ‘I should have offered my help. Anyone else would have killed me, but she … she just let me go.’

‘She does that kind of thing, yes,’ Zevran replied softly. ‘So you wish to help, do you?’ Howe nodded. ‘She’s not here. I suggest you return to Vigil’s Keep. Not as a sneak-thief, but openly. Talk to her, tell her you want to be of use.’

‘She’ll kill me. She said as much.’

‘Not if you talk quickly and honestly. She’ll let you help.’

‘What makes you think that?’ Howe asked with a bemused expression.

‘I’m standing here, aren’t I? Now move, for I am not her.’ Howe blinked, and left at a quick pace. Zevran returned to the two people he had talked to. ‘Has he been asking random people if they’ve seen the Warden Commander,’ he asked in a conversational tone, ‘or are you two stupid enough to want to harm her?’

‘Want to harm her?’ one of them said. ‘No, no, we have information for her.’

‘Which is? I bet she has enough trouble without you two.’

‘We know where the darkspawn are coming from.’

Zevran’s eyebrows shot up. ‘If this is a joke, it’s a bad one. Where would that be?’

‘An entrance to the deep roads. We were out hunting when Micah fell in the rift.’ The elf standing beside the man gave an impatient grunt but said nothing. ‘So he lay there yelling about his knee or his head or what have you, and then the darkspawn appeared.’

‘How many?’

‘More than a brood and less than a horde. Seemed occupied, didn’t even notice us. If you’ve got a map I’ll mark it for you.’

‘That would be good, yes. Now … don’t you want to sleep in a house?’

‘Micah here won’t leave this spot without his talisman.’

Zevran turned to the elf. ‘I’ll bring you somewhere safer than the streets. I know how to look after myself as well as others.’

Micah stared at him for a few seconds before he ripped himself from the spot and trotted after him. The other hunter growled and followed.

 

 


	8. Curtains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Curtains is a song by Peter Gabriel, and I know it from the Video Game Myst IV - Revelations. I deemed it fitting because in the game it is used as you enter the dream realm. I hereby recommend all the Myst-Games to everyone with love for very weird and trying puzzles, a lot of time and patience, and a liking for beautiful graphics rather than a lot of action.))

_Núria_

 

Núria very nearly ran after Zevran. Instead, however, she sorted the letters she had dropped before retiring to her room. She didn’t sleep that night. The pain on Zevran’s face never left her thoughts, and neither did the question just how long he had watched her with Anders. And Anders … Núria couldn’t help herself. She told him of the encounter the next day. The mage went slightly pale when she told him that a jealous Antivan Crow had been right there, either inside their room or just outside the door, probably wondering whether or not he should attack. But to his credit, he took it in stride, reminding her that in fact nothing had happened and telling her that her Antivan would come to his senses.

They talked to the merchants outside the keep the next morning. Núria gave gold to a dwarf who claimed he could fortify the walls with it and promised delivering lyrium sand to his brother, who made horrible explosives out of it. Anders found a small kitten and knelt beside it for so long that Núria simply picked it up and placed it in his hands. ‘Take it with you, if you must. Let’s just keep walking.’

One of the soldiers informed Núria that there was an entrance to the deep roads beneath the keep. To secure it, someone had to venture down there and find the precise place. Núria just glanced at Anders and Oghren. The dwarf huffed, and Anders laughed softly. ‘I learn something new every day,’ he said. ‘I used to think Grey Wardens are just some well trained and selected soldiers. Now I know that beside killing darkspawn they scout, help merchants, meddle in politics, and have mercy on kittens. I think I could actually like this. All this darkspawn-fighting would get boring without the rest. Like knights, we fight all evil befouling the land and …’

Núria turned to him. ‘Anders?’ she said in a conversational tone.

‘Yes?’

‘Shut up.’

Anders only laughed harder than before.

The laughter died on the mage’s face when they found the ghoul of a woman. Her face was spotted, but unlike the ghouls Núria had seen before she was not only insane but also violent. With a scream she attacked them, her mouth opened so wide it looked as though her jaw must dislocate. When she was dead Anders stared at her body. ‘What was that? That wasn’t darkspawn, not even a … walking corpse or some such demon-thing.’

Núria turned the dead woman on her back. ‘That, my dear Anders, is what awaits all who are infected with the darkspawn taint.’

He went pale. ‘Meaning … _I_ will one day be like … that?’

Núria shrugged. ‘You might also just die. In some thirty years from now. Did you think the darkspawn blood was a health drink?’

‘No. But if I become such a thing, won’t I be very dangerous? Or will I lose my magic with my mind?’

‘I don’t know. Most Grey Wardens go to the Deep Roads to die when they feel their time is over.’

Anders nodded slowly. ‘Can only be better than ending up like this.’

‘Ah, cheer up, laddie,’ Oghren said lightly. ‘One thing or another will kill you, that’s no different from anyone else. Either the booze or the taint, the end is always the same.’

Neither Anders nor Núria pointed out to him that it was not that likely that booze would harm the mage apart from perhaps the occasional hangover.

After the encounter with the ghoul, they found their path blocked by rubble and went to fetch the dwarf who wanted to build fortifications. After ruling out controlled demolition as a way further into the basement, he asked for some time to clear the rubble away. Núria decided to go to Amaranthine in the meanwhile.

The city was only two days from the keep. It was big, but she found most of the people she was looking for in a day: the guild master of the merchants, the inn where Kristoff, the missing warden, had stayed, and even before entering the city they even found Nathaniel Howe. Núria drew her weapons at once, but Nathaniel raised his hands. ‘Wait, I want to talk to you,’ he said in a slightly desperate tone.’

Núria raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Careful,’ Oghren said in a carrying whisper. ‘This one might just go all Zevran on you.’

Anders flinched at that, but Núria didn’t. ‘What do you want?’ she asked, never putting her sword and dagger away.

‘I want to know … why you set me free. Despite what I said and what I might do.’

‘I told you to get out of my sight and never into it again. Which part of that did you not understand?’

‘Take me with you,’ the man before her said suddenly. ‘Make me a Grey Warden.’

Something about this was painfully familiar. ‘That’s a joke, right?’ Núria asked. If it was, she didn’t find it remotely funny.

Howe made a step towards her, and she tensed. He stopped at once. ‘I almost can’t believe I’m asking, but I’m serious. I have nowhere to go. I fully expected to die in there, maybe I even wanted to. But you let me go.’ Núria glared at Oghren. His prediction wasn’t that wrong, it seemed, even though the dwarf couldn’t know the extent of the similarities. She had never told a soul of the things that Zevran had entrusted to her. ‘Make me a Grey Warden. Let me try. Please.’ There was a difference in the two, though. Zevran, when she had met him, had been an opportunist. Here she saw an amount of regret she had only noticed in the Antivan very late, and this regret had not been for her attempted murder.

‘You’re reminding me of someone else I should perhaps have killed when I had the opportunity,’ Núria told him, and he braced himself. She smiled. ‘I seem to repeat mistakes. Come with me. When we get back to the keep we will talk to Varel.’

Nathaniel looked as though he had very nearly smiled.

Núria felt like tearing the city apart in her search for the hunter who had found an entrance to the deep roads. She was desperate enough to head up to the chantry, never really believing she would find them there. Before she rushed through the huge door, her eyes caught the woman outside and she stopped abruptly. ‘Wynne!’ she shouted, running towards the mage and pulling her into a fierce hug. ‘You’re here! And you didn’t come to visit?’

Wynne smiled at her. ‘Oh, it’s so busy, and I’m going to leave again very soon. Not even for Denerim, I am sorry to say, for Alistair wasn’t quite happy to let me go. But the College of Magi is convening in Cumberland, and I must attend. Hopefully all this will blow over before its begun. But I will not trouble you with my problems.’

‘Your problems are mine, too, Wynne,’ Núria said gently. ‘I’m not a mage, but you’re my friend.’

‘Perhaps you can indeed help me. I have a great many preparations to make before I leave for Nevarra, and on top of everything else, I should go to the Wending Wood to find Ines, a … colleague of mine. She’s looking for … plants there. She has a keen interest in gardening. Oh, I’m sorry, _botany_. Claims that it’s useful, too, and that she cannot possibly do anything before she had a chance to restock. Mumbled something about wasting all her weed on a vagabond, whatever she meant by it. Well, if you see her, send her to Cumberland for me, would you? We will need a voice of reason there.’

Núria smiled. ‘I will tell her, if I find her.’

‘Thank you so much. You do not need to run there at once. Just make sure she comes at all. And now I must go and make my preparations. Take care, my friend.’

Ϡ

The hunter wasn’t in the chantry, and Núria gave up. She strolled back to the market with the others in a slightly sour mood to buy poultices. They would leave for the Blackmarsh the next day: It was there Kristoff had last been seen.

Before they entered the market district, Núria noticed a guard who … just didn’t seem to be what he looked at first sight. She had been given a letter from one Ser Wolff, a mysterious person who wanted to speak to her. Varel had mentioned that a person calling himself the Dark Wolf might be able to help against her conspirators, and she wondered if this was he. There was only one way to find out. She approached him warily, prepared for a fight. ‘Are you the Dark Wolf?’

‘In the flesh,’ the guard replied. ‘In the depths of the city, there is murmuring. Murmuring that nobles want you dead. I’d like to help.’

‘Well, aren’t you the altruistic person,’ Núria said with a wry grin.

‘I have hopes that the wardens will prove more fit to rule this land than the late Arl Rendon Howe. His confederates are the conspirators. But to unearth their identities, I’ll need resources. Fifty sovereigns.’

Núria tapped her forehead. ‘No way. You know what I think? I think you’re just after my coin. I’m taking you into custody.’

‘I’ll not go quietly,’ the man in disguise said, and a few of the surrounding guards stirred. Apparently he was not without protection.

Núria was not alone, either. ‘Bring it on.’

Ϡ

Before leaving for the Blackmarsh, Núria hoped to see Wynne once more and headed to the chantry. Instead, she found a highly distressed woman who was missing her husband. With a sigh, she went looking for him. Unfortunately all she could tell the poor woman was that her husband had hanged himself. She refrained from informing her that it had been because he had failed to buy and restore an old house. Suicide was selfish enough, she decided, without such a mundane reason.

The Blackmarsh was a few days to the south-east. The landscape became more dreary the closer they got, the ground somewhat treacherous, forcing them to travel only when the sun was high in the sky. In the marsh itself, the hour didn’t seem to matter. Something evil had a hold on the place, allowing no light through a thick layer of clouds. In the centre of the area there was a ruin that was inhabited by wolves and even werewolves. They wanted to make camp at the outskirts of the place before venturing further, and as they drew away from the ruins, they saw a greenish, see-through wall rising before them. Núria led them closer, despite a strong feeling that this was very bad news.

‘This is a tear in the veil,’ Anders said sharply. ‘Do not get too close, Maker knows what could happen.’

‘We shouldn’t camp near this thing,’ Núria decided. ‘Let’s go somewhere else.’ But there were more tears, and finally they retreated into the ruins of a burnt house, taking turns to watch for wolves and other things.

The following morning, Núria was woken by Nathaniel. ‘We should not stay here longer than we have to,’ he said calmly.

Anders was rubbing his eyes and staring bleakly into the darkness. ‘I’m scared. Hold me.’

Nathaniel shot him a disdainful look, but Núria smiled. Nathaniel would get used to his ramblings.

‘I remember another place that felt like this,’ she said. ‘The Circle Tower, when Uldred had it in his grip.’

Nathaniel offered an approving nod. ‘There is indeed magic at work here. My father told me the stories of the Blackmarsh. No one ever found out what happened here. Once the monsters appeared, the marsh was abandoned. I used to dream of coming to the Blackmarsh and setting things right. Little boy dreams.’

Núria smiled at the man before her. ‘Why, it looks like here’s your chance to fulfil it.’ That earned her a rare smile. ‘Let’s get a move on, I’m guessing you’re right about leaving soon. Oghren? _Oghren_ , Maker, get your arse off the floor.’

It didn’t take long to find out that Kristoff had indeed been here. They found dead darkspawn and a tent, and a little further ahead, Núria stumbled to a hold as she noticed _growth_. ‘Egad, not those again.’ A very vivid memory of thick ooze gushing out of one such thing assaulted her stomach, and she very nearly retched. Only then did she notice that the surface was moving, and instinctively she drew.

Out of the growth, foot-long things crawled. They were darkspawn, Núria could feel that. But they didn’t look like any darkspawn she had seen. They resembled very twisted millipedes, large and thick and with distinct mandibles and … some of them had three eyes. Very nearly panicking, she stomped them firmly into the ground, a satisfying crunching sound rewarding her every time one of them died under her or her companions’ feet.

‘New forms of darkspawn?’ Anders wondered loudly, kneeling next to one of the dead things, turning it around with two fingers. ‘There isn’t even a blight now, why are there new forms of darkspawn?’

Núria wished she had an answer for him.

Atop a small hill, they detected the body of an armed and armoured man Núria took to be Kristoff. ‘I guess we won’t need quarters for him then,’ she said with a sigh and turned. She nearly stumbled back into Oghren.

Before her stood a hurlock, but it didn’t look … ordinary, more like the one on the battlements of Vigil’s Keep. And like the attackers there, it talked. ‘The Mother told it that if he was lured to this place, and slain, that in time you would come. And the Mother she was right. The Mother is always right.’

Núria swallowed. ‘Mother?’

‘The Mother is she that sent me, she that wished you to come. To here, this place. I … here before you is the First, and I am bringing you a message. The Mother, she is not permitting you to further his plan, whether this you know or not. So she is sending you a gift.’

As the darkspawn extended his hand, Anders gave an anguished shout behind her and yanked at her hand, trying to pull her away. But his aid came too late. Enclosed in the fist of the First, there was a dancing play of darkness and light, pulsating slightly and growing larger rapidly, until it engulfed them all: Núria and her companions, more of the millipede-ish darkspawn, and the First himself. Her surroundings became indistinct, feeling seemed to leave her limbs, making way for a sensation she knew. She shouted her protest into the world, but her words were carried away by the rushing noise of a hole being ripped into reality – and then, it was all over.

‘You son of a … Mother, what were you thinking?’ Núria yelled at the darkspawn.

She had never seen darkspawn looking confused, but this one certainly did. ‘This was not as she said!’ He managed to sound like a disillusioned child indeed. ‘I am betrayed! Now I am being trapped in the Fade with you! Ah, I am the fool!’

‘Help me get back, and you’ll get revenge.’ Her heart was racing. Every thought in her head seemed to have been replaced by _Not this again_.

‘The Grey Warden is wishing help, from the First?’ the darkspawn asked in a mocking tone. ‘Do not be making me laugh! I will be leaving you to the Children. I will be finding my own path back into the world. Back to the Mother!’

‘I never liked children,’ Oghren commented as they killed the attacking creatures.

‘I never bothered much about them, but then again, the ones at the tower were a little different,’ Anders replied, freezing one of the millipedes before Oghren shattered it with his axe. ‘They had two legs and two arms, and, yes I’m nearly sure, two eyes only. Ugh.’ Oghren and Anders kept going on about the flaws of either kind of children, while Núria tried not to panic. Finally, she grabbed the mage by the arms and put him before her on the path, declaring that he had better handle their situation instead of talking nonsense. The Fade was something mages were supposed to be familiar with, after all, and she had no idea how she had got out the first time, really.

This part of the Fade was structured like the Blackmarsh, which struck Núria as odd. The part where she had been trapped before had been like nothing in the real world, only illusions.

She voiced her observation to Anders, who nodded slowly. ‘Weird, isn’t it?’ he asked. ‘Might have to do with those tears. I suspect we have to … close them, and the fact that the Fade looks like the marsh might mean that we have to close them from both sides.’

‘How?’

Anders merely shrugged. ‘It just might mean that there are not only things from the Fade escaping into reality, but that mutually the Fade keeps _taking_ things out of it,’ he tried to explain. ‘But I’ve never heard of anything like this, so I wouldn’t know.’

Anders seemed to lead them through the Fade by intuition. They found altars surrounded by demons, and once those were destroyed, Anders inspected them closely. Finally he placed his hands on them and closed his eyes for a moment. ‘I felt something,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve closed one of the tears, at least this side of the tear. There were four, I believe? We have to find them all, then we can look for a way back.’

When they were done with the tears, Anders led them further to the ruins. Only here the ruins were a village, alive with people. There was a commotion near a gate, and Anders stopped in his tracks. A bright, shining being was there amongst the villagers, urging them to assault the doors. ‘This is not a demon,’ the mage said softly. ‘Maybe the spirit will help us, let’s go.’ Núria nodded and hoped that Anders’s judgement was true.

The spirit faced them with a challenging look. ‘Who comes now? More minions of the baroness? Or yet more helpless souls she has tormented?’

‘Do I look like a helpless soul?’ Núria asked.

‘No, that you do not. I am Justice. I have watched this place and seethed at the wrongs visited on these poor folk, and now I seek to aid them.’

‘Aid them against who?’ Núria wondered if she was about to meet the First again.

‘The baroness and her minions. They have held them captive for an eternity now, and they are powerful, but you seem an able sort. Your aid would be welcome.’

‘I need help too,’ Núria informed him. ‘I have to get out of the Fade.’

‘Out of …? Ah, I see. You come from the realm of mortals, as these fine people once did. Was it the baroness who brought you here, as well?’

‘No, I was trapped by darkspawn.’

The spirit nodded. ‘Then the injustice of your own situation underscores why these people must be avenged. These men and women are dead, yet their spirits remain trapped by the vanity of this sorceress. I do not know how to cross the veil, but if you will aid us, I promise that I will help you search.’

Núria grinned. ‘Deal.’

Núria was nearly disappointed when the baroness turned out to be a simple woman. She had painted her eyes in an angry green, but that did not make her look beautiful or mysterious. Her two companions were ugly, twisted creatures, but Núria had seen mad things in the Fade before. The First had joined forces with the baroness and attacked them at her command, but the villagers were just too many, and with her and the others to aid them, they brought him down easily enough. As he was defeated, he stumbled towards the baroness, begging her to send him back through the veil.

The baroness looked disgusted. ‘Oh, I will sunder the veil all right. I’ll send them all back! But you – your life is going to provide the power.’ Even as the First screamed, the same interchanging light he had used to bring Núria into the Fade ripped through him. His body seemed to become fuzzy, and he screeched in agony as he died, leaving a rip in the world that drew Núria in like a maelstrom, knocking her unconscious.

Ϡ

Núria came to on the moist ground of the marsh. She saw Anders, Oghren, and Nathaniel stirring – and, to her horror, the corpse of the Grey Warden Kristoff. Núria’s hands flew to her weapons as he rose, looking confused. But walking corpses didn’t normally look confused. Then again, darkspawn didn’t talk, either … She shook the thoughts off. ‘No fast movement!’ she said.

‘This is the world of mortals, beyond the veil,’ Kristoff breathed, looking thoroughly shocked. ‘And this … this is a mortal body of flesh! I am trapped within.’ Kristoff groped at his own face, dread clear in his sunken eyes.

‘The spirit of justice,’ Anders said. ‘How did you get here?’

‘The witch sundered the veil in her haste. All of us were drawn through. She has returned to this realm as well. Can you not feel it? The baroness is nearby.’

‘We’ve defeated her once already,’ Núria said grimly.

‘You misunderstand. The baroness, she is not a mortal as you are or as were the villagers she kept trapped.’

‘The veil is still broken here,’ Anders muttered. ‘I feel it. But after what we did in the Fade we might be able to close the tears. If only I knew how.’

‘I can alter your weapons for a time,’ Kristoff suggested. ‘That way you will be able to drive back the Fade’s magic … but we must also deal with the baroness, and quickly.’

Either it was what Anders had done to the altars in the Fade, or something Kristoff had achieved: They could attack the rifts physically, until they shrunk and closed eventually. Shades kept drifting out, but with an additional fighter it was possible to keep them at bay. Eventually, they returned to the ruin, where the baroness was waiting for them already.

The baroness, Kristoff informed them, was possessed by a demon of pride. Núria sighed. Demons of pride weren’t generally pretty. She remembered vaguely that Morrigan had told her revenants were also pride demons controlling dead bodies. She didn’t have much time to ponder which form the demon would choose, because it transformed quickly. ‘If anything, you’re uglier even than Uldred,’ she said.

Anders gave a slightly hysterical laugh beside her. ‘I was under arrest at that time. But I guess Uldred wasn’t much uglier as a demon than he was as a man.’

‘Stop talking, can you … knock it back or something?’ Kristoff and Oghren had launched themselves at the demon, while Nathaniel kept aiming at its head with a bow and arrow he had found in the ruins.

‘I could try something …’ Anders mused. Núria watched him prepare a spell, and then she felt and saw nothing – only cold, seeping through her entire body, making her immobile and giving her the feeling she would break to pieces if tipped over. ‘Sorry,’ Anders shouted but ignored her otherwise.

It felt like it took hours for the warmth to return. ‘Are you insane?’

‘You stood in the line of fire.’

‘Taking a step to the left sounded like too much eff…’ An arrow went flying from Nathaniel’s bow, soaring to the tall creature until it buried itself in its left eye. The demon gave an enormous roar and pulled it out with a clawed hand. Kristoff used the moment of confusion to ram the edge of his shield into the knees of the thing.

Oghren sunk his axe into the thick skull. ‘Reminds you of the good old times in the deep roads. What d’ya reckon, that mother … A brood mother?’

She shrugged. ‘Something along those lines, but I … think there’s more to it. So … Ser, your baroness is dead. What of you? If you cannot leave this body, I suggest you follow me. The man you … um, inhabit was a Grey Warden.’

Kristoff stared at her. He had been dead a few days and that was clearly visible. Núria wondered how bad it would get with time and decided not to ponder this for the time being. ‘I remember … _He_ remembers, and I can see it,’ he began, then he shook his head. ‘It was a darkspawn who murdered this mortal most ignobly, and the ones that commanded it yet live. To avenge his death … yes, that would be a purpose. Very well, I will join you, Grey Warden, if you will allow it.’

‘Certainly. Um, what shall we call you? Kristoff?’

Kristoff shook his head. ‘That is not my name. I have no name, only a virtue to which I aspire. If I am to need a name, then use that. I am Justice. And for now I am pleased to travel at your side, Grey Warden.’

Núria smiled weakly. ‘Just like the good old times, right. I collect everyone who belongs nowhere. Once, I want to meet someone normal who wants to help. Just once.’

Oghren laughed. ‘Ah, you wouldn’t know what’d hit you, I bet.’


	9. All I Really Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Originally, I had planned to call the chapter ‘Kindred Spirits’, but then I changed my mind. Those who know the song (by Alanis Morissette, for reference) it is called after will know why.  
> Oh, and this ... I never intended to go so far in my ‘slightly AU’, but there you are. I wanted to give just one of the bits to Zev, and this is the only one it works for.))

_Zevran_

 

He had never been afraid of heights. In fact, there weren’t many things that _could_ scare him. He had even thought he had seen too much of the world to ever be frightened again, but now he stood at a wooden bridge and realised he had been very wrong.

If the bridge broke underneath him, he would die, there was no doubt about it. The question was if he would break his neck and be dead at once, or if he would land feet first. If that was the case, his bones would be shattered under him, and the impact would break his skull. Also, his inner organs would rupture and he would bleed to death, slowly and unable to move an inch. He swallowed hard and made a careful step onto the wooden structure before him.

If he had come here with Núria, he would have told her there must be another way, he would not have let her use this path without looking for another way across very thoroughly indeed. But he was alone, which reduced the risk, and he was more dispensable. His hands clutched at the two rope handrails, hoping he would be able to hold on to them if the wood gave. It creaked dangerously, and one plank crumbled when he put his weight on it. Zevran’s heart jumped into his throat, but the next plank held, and for a moment he remained standing there, shaking and cursing himself for his fear.

Zevran didn’t allow himself a pause when he was at the other side of the chasm. The hunter had marked the place too far to the west, but when he came across it, he knew it must be the one. He had watched Núria’s sojourn in the city from the catwalks and had considered telling her of the two hunters, but then he had refrained. So instead he had watched her slaughter the Dark Wolf with a mixture of worry and amusement, had seen her detect his trail to Karrem, and had watched her leave again with Howe in tow. Then he had set out for the hunters’ chasm, determined to survive his endeavour. When that was done, he would decide what he would do. Making a decision would have been easier if he didn’t miss her so much, but there was nothing he could do about that. Just this once, he wanted to do what was best for himself in the first place.

After the bridge, a similarly dangerous flight of stairs led down into the chasm. Zevran went slowly and quietly. He didn’t want to be seen if he could help it. He only wished to investigate, so he could return to Vigil’s Keep with a purpose. It did look as though there might be darkspawn around: They left strange constructions wherever they got: spears stuck into the earth with bloody boulders amongst them; nothing pretty, of course, but recognisable, and one such thing was just up the stairs.

Carefully, Zevran proceeded into the place. The floor was tiled as parts of the deep roads had been – another indication that the hunters hadn’t just been spinning tales. And then, suddenly, he heard them a short way ahead. He pressed into the wall and glanced around the corner.

The darkspawn had a captive. They were dragging her along, probably into their lair. The poor soul was struggling, but she had no chance. Zevran stood rooted where he was and waited for her to disappear. Then it struck him that there was only one purpose for which the darkspawn dragged people – women! – into the deep roads, and against his will, he stepped out into the open. ‘Hold!’ he called, angry at himself. The darkspawn stopped and let go of the woman.

She jumped to her feet at once in an elegant motion. She was a lot shorter than Zevran, and had the typical stout build of a dwarf. Her mail was fashioned in the style he had come to associate with the Legion of the Dead. ‘Catch that!’ he shouted and threw his own old Crow dagger to her. She caught it deftly and flung herself at the darkspawn. Zevran rushed to her and stood with his back against hers, facing their enemies.

‘Who are you?’ she asked behind his back.

‘Zevran.’ He swung the sword in his left hand at the creature before him. ‘Legion of the Dead?’

‘Right. Sigrun. Thanks. For a moment I thought I would really join the Legion.’ Zevran gave a harsh laugh that was drowned in the gurgling sound of a dying darkspawn. ‘Are you a Grey Warden?’

‘Not quite. I take that as a compliment, though.’ He felt Sigrun duck behind him and spun around to jab at the last remaining hurlock. ‘So, what are you doing here?’

Sigrun brushed dirt off her armour. ‘I’m going back in of course.’

‘Back in where exactly?’

‘The old fortress of Kal’Hirol. Still a mystery how exactly we lost it. Smiths used to learn here, and the streets were glistening with gold and silver. It was one of the first great thaigs that fell to the darkspawn.’

‘And now?’ Zevran insisted.

Sigrun looked impatiently towards the entrance. ‘Now the darkspawn are breeding in there. They cannot be left to carry out their plans. The Legion went to investigate, but Kal’Hirol proved too much for us. It was a massacre. And now I … I am the only one left.’ She glanced at Zevran and there was a flicker of fear in her eyes. ‘The darkspawn have changed. They’re smart now. They destroyed the Legion. I saw them taking some of the women and I wasn’t about to stick around for that.’

Zevran nodded. ‘Very wise of you. Now I suggest you tell me precisely where Kal’Hirol is and get out of here.’

‘Are you insane? If you weren’t an elf I’d say you’re one of the Legion, but being what you are …’

Zevran grinned. ‘I have no intention to die, I assure you. You wish to come with me, then?’

Sigrun nodded and beamed at him. ‘Excellent. With you destroying this nest is no longer impossible, it’s merely … improbable!’

For the first time in a while Zevran laughed.

Ϡ

Together, they climbed deeper into the chasm. Structures could be seen further on and below, but the floor was suspiciously soft. Zevran screwed up his face. He should have known. Nearby, there was another dwarf of the Legion, but he was beyond saving. For a woman who was supposed to consider herself and her companions dead already, Sigrun took it badly. Zevran swallowed when the dying man told them that the broodmothers down in Kal’Hirol were breeding. Zevran had fought one of them, and he certainly didn’t want to be faced with more of them together, even if they weren’t the most mobile things in the world. The man died with the warning that they should beware of the Children. Zevran and Sigrun exchanged glances: The man had to be seeing things in his agony. There was no way there could be children here.

Into the first hall of the city, they found he wasn’t. Only that children weren’t what Zevran was thinking of when he eyed the creatures that had attacked them. Where darkspawn normally looked vaguely human or similar, these were just strange. Sigrun didn’t seem to know what to make of them either, but they agreed that they should be very careful about them. With his weapons in hand, Zevran started towards the door.

A light touch on his arm stopped him. ‘The Legion got this far with no trouble,’ Sigrun explained. ‘We got careless and complacent, and stormed the main entrance, up those stairs. It was a disaster. The darkspawn were waiting. They turned the thaig’s old defences against us.’

‘Traps, I assume,’ Zevran said and scanned the floor for signs of some kind of mechanism.

Sigrun nodded. ‘That and more. Ancient dwarven ingenuity, used by the very monsters it was intended to kill. We need to learn from the Legion’s mistake. Avoid the main door.’

Zevran glanced at the walls surrounding them. ‘Do you know a second entrance?’

Sigrun marched to the left one and rapped her knuckles against it. ‘Most of the old dwarven fortresses had hidden side entrances. I bet this one does too. We just need to find it.’ The round face of the woman lit up after less than a minute. ‘Gotcha,’ she said, pulled a practically invisible lever, and a door opened to her left.

Zevran kept to the shadows and noticed Sigrun do the same. ‘Should we try to get through unseen?’ he breathed, his voice barely audible.

‘Some of them will sense us,’ Sigrun replied. ‘Others won’t. In that room there’s one who has some magic, those always notice.’

‘You don’t have a bow and arrow at hand, do you?’

‘I have a throwing star.’

Zevran blinked. ‘And you can use it?’

‘Sure.’ The pride in Sigrun’s voice was audible. ‘So I’ll try and kill the one who’s handling the golems. He’s the one with magic.’

Zevran clapped her shoulder. ‘Show me what you’ve got.’

Sigrun crept to the door and opened it by a fraction. Her body stiffened, and she tossed something. A strange whistling sound was in the air for a moment, but then she closed the door again, shutting it out, and leaned against it, grinning. ‘Got him. Now let’s wait for the others to run down to the door so we can get past.’

‘You’d better take your weapon back from him, too, who knows. I’ve never seen one of the Legion use a throwing star. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen anyone use one.’

‘Some carta assassins do.’

Only now Zevran noticed the tattoo on her cheek. He had seen that before, but the s-shaped mark telling she was one of the casteless was almost hidden amongst more interweaving lines.

‘An assassin? That explains a lot. And it makes things easier. It means I don’t need to look after you overly much.’

Sigrun huffed. ‘Barely. And you? Your sole purpose of existence cannot be to rescue people from being dragged off by darkspawn.’

‘I used to be an Antivan Crow. But I quit. I travelled with the Grey Warden who ended the blight. And now I’ve come here to investigate a couple of hunters’ tale of a chasm full of darkspawn.’

‘You quit the Crows and I survived the slaughter of the Legion. If that doesn’t make us kin, I don’t know what would. In that spirit, let’s see if the air’s clean, brother.’

The darkspawn Sigrun had killed with her throwing star had a golem control rod the dwarven woman pocketed before she spat at the corpse. He could understand her. The dwarves were rather fond of their golems, and to use them against their masters was not something they took to kindly. They reached the next door unseen, but when they entered the corridor behind it, Sigrun nearly gasped, clamping her hand over her mouth. There were spirits. Zevran had come across some of this sort in the deep roads, but she apparently hadn’t. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this before,’ Sigrun said slightly shakily. ‘They say the memories of the stone are forever. Was this what they mean?’

Zevran shrugged and walked on. ‘More of them ahead,’ he breathed at Sigrun.

‘You sure you’re not a warden? How do you know?’

‘Listen,’ Zevran said, closing his eyes. The noises were soft, but they were audible. A scraping of leather, a soft clang of metal against stone. Sigrun stared into nothing for a moment, then she nodded. ‘This is too narrow to go unseen,’ Zevran whispered. ‘Let’s get as close as we can before they …’

‘Ignore the shadows,’ a harsh voice said, and a hurlock stepped into their corridor. ‘They do no harm. Kill the intruders!’

Zevran was still staring at their attacker, doubting his own sanity, when Sigrun was on him. ‘Did it just _say_ something?’

‘What does it matter, kill it!’ Sigrun shouted, shoving a dagger into the side of a genlock.

Zevran blinked his confusion away and did as he was told.

The talking darkspawn didn’t fight like darkspawn. Darkspawn hacked at you without really thinking where they hit you. This one defended itself more effectively than was normal, and it attacked intelligently. She had told him, Zevran reminded himself. Sigrun had said something about smart darkspawn, but he had thought the Legion had just been terribly outnumbered. Now he knew they were indeed intelligent, he wondered if he would ever see the sun again.

Down here, there wasn’t only talking darkspawn, but there were also groups of darkspawn fighting each other. This helped the two assassins to pass unnoticed, but even so it wasn’t a comforting notion. There was something terribly wrong here.

A long straight corridor led the pair to a room with a golem and two darkspawn. They froze when the golem smashed one of its gigantic fists down onto one of the two hurlocks before it, grabbed it, and held it out to the other. ‘The Architect sends many but does not come himself?’ the one still standing asked. ‘He is a coward. I will kill you, and he will know that he has failed to destroy the Lost. He will know that the Mother will tear him apart.’ He nodded at the golem, and the huge creature took the hurlock in both hands, ripping it unceremoniously in half.

Zevran backed away towards where they had come from, and Sigrun followed him quickly. ‘What now?’ Zevran asked. ‘The room is too bright to get through unnoticed, and I really do not know how to kill a golem of that size.’

Sigrun glanced at the door. ‘Explosives. I have some, and if I manage to hurl them at its head, I guess it will fall … eventually.’

‘I’ll take care of the other one, then.’

‘I have a feeling this one’s strong, and I guess he has magic.’

Zevran prepared his weapons with a strong poison. ‘How do you know?’

‘Experience. Shall we?’

Zevran simply nodded. With a last glance at each other they burst into the room.

Zevran ignored the noise beside him as well as he could. Between wondering whether the whole darkspawn in Kal’Hirol would find them before the roof came down, or if it would be the other way round, he tried to keep the so-called Lost from casting a spell in Sigrun’s direction. His advantage was that people using magic wore no armour. Also, they often had trouble when engaged in close combat. This seemed no different with darkspawn. Another explosion rent the air, and the Lost aimed a spell at Zevran, and he felt his muscles stiffening. Cursing under his breath, he relaxed into the spell, knowing it would wear off more quickly if he didn’t struggle.

The Lost stood in concentration, muttering a spell and weaving his fingers through the air. Fire started to form between his hands when Zevran tried to move again and managed to. With one fluid motion he plunged his sword into the back of the Lost. At the same moment, with a loud clash, the upper half of the golem shattered, and it was hailing rocks in the entire room. Zevran dropped his sword and let himself fall, shielding his head with his arms. He tasted something bitter on his lips, and then he felt like someone had rammed a pike through his jaw into his brain. He spat and wiped the back of his hand against his mouth. His entire body contorted and for a moment all turned black.

When the fog cleared, Sigrun was standing above him and offered a hand to help him to his feet. ‘He must have been protecting the broodmothers. Now we just have to put an end to them – and whatever these darkspawn were planning.’

Zevran went to take back the sword he had dropped, but the blade was bent almost in a right angle. With a glance at Sigrun, he placed the tip on the floor and tried to bend it back with his foot. With a clang, it broke in half. ‘Thought so,’ Zevran muttered, sheathing what remained. ‘Have you ever fought a broodmother?’

Sigrun shrugged. ‘No, not I. Can’t be worse than this.’

‘One of them, probably not. But your friend, he said broodmothers. Plural. That’s what worries me.’

‘Still can’t be worse than one golem and one general,’ Sigrun answered serenely and walked on into the next corridor.

Zevran followed her, shaking his head.

The broodmothers were situated in a pit and couldn’t reach them. First, Zevran thought that he and Sigrun wouldn’t be able to harm them at all, either, but then the dwarf pointed up above the pit. A solid rock was suspended there, held by four chains fastened to the floor they were standing on. Sigrun eyed the chains with a grin. They were rusting, and the first gave easily when she brought her blade against it. The rock shook menacingly but held. Something on it glittered green. ‘Is that lyrium?’ Zevran asked in alarm, and Sigrun’s grin widened.

‘You should keep away from the edge,’ she advised as she severed the second chain.

Zevran only just managed to heed that suggestion when the rock came down. The following explosion seemed to shake the foundations of the world itself. Zevran was surprised that they weren’t buried alive when all went still, but the roof was still where it should be, and so was the door. ‘Sigrun?’

A soft squeak answered, and she came running, a big grin on her face. She flung her arms around him and squeezed. ‘We did it! If the rest of the Legion were alive, I know … I know they would honour you in some way.’

‘They’d better honour you just as much,’ Zevran replied, extricating himself from the small woman. ‘What still worries me are the two factions. They looked so organised.’

Sigrun’s face went serious at once. ‘Yes, that is strange indeed. Now I guess I’ll move on into the bowels of the deep roads, never to be seen again. One good thing about the deep roads is that you never run out of darkspawn to fight.’

‘They will get you eventually,’ Zevran said. ‘You know what they’ll do to you. Is that what you wish?’ Sigrun glared at him but didn’t answer. ‘You have to be aware of this as well if you go there. You want to end like this?’

He indicated the pit where the broodmothers had been. ‘What choice do I have? I should be dead already.’

‘And yet, here you are,’ Zevran said softly. ‘Go back to the surface with me. Go to Vigil’s Keep. Tell the Warden Commander what we found, about the factions, the Children, a Mother and an Architect and what not. She has to know. And you could help her. Join the wardens.’

Sigrun blinked and stared past Zevran. ‘Be a Grey Warden? Is that allowed? Can you be both part of the Legion and a Grey Warden?’

‘The Legion does no longer exist, at least for now. What is allowed is for the Commander to decide, and she’ll take you happily.’

‘Will you come with me?’

Zevran smiled sadly. ‘I’ll go to Amaranthine. I have to impress on those hunters that they cannot tell anyone else about this place, for they would send them to their deaths. There are still darkspawn above us, and I intend to leave as quietly as we entered. And then … Who knows, perhaps we’ll meet again in Vigil’s Keep?’

‘Will you join the wardens, too?’

Zevran snorted. ‘I wouldn’t survive, I know that now. You’ll see why soon enough.’


	10. A Force of Nature

_Núria_

 

‘Staring daggers at a … well, a dagger isn’t going to make it melt,’ Anders voice said. The conspiracy had just unravelled in form of Bann Esmerelle storming the throne room with a handful of assassins.

‘This is a Crow dagger,’ Núria said. She wondered how her voice could be so calm when she was feeling a kind of rage that was threatening to make her burst.

‘Is it?’ The mage stepped closer and glanced at it. ‘Well, she’s a rich woman.’

Núria directed her gaze from the weapon to Anders in a hard glance. ‘”You will hear from me.” He said that before he left. And now there are _Crows_ helping in a conspiracy against me.’

The mage let out a low whistle. ‘You think that your … your Zevran is involved in this?’

‘I wouldn’t be the first.’

‘Zevran?’ Sigrun asked sharply. Núria hadn’t had an opportunity to speak to her apart from agreeing to let her join. She intended to change that on the way south. ‘I was brought here by a man named Zevran.’

Núria stared at the dwarven woman. ‘That’s impossible. He was busy plotting my death.’

‘I doubt that very much,’ Sigrun said. ‘Unless there are two of that name around. He was with me in Kal’Hirol. He helped me kill the broodmothers down there.’

Núria frowned. ‘That does sound like him, at least so far as courage is concerned. Your Zevran, what did he look like?’

‘Hmm, like an elf, mainly. Red hair, handsome face, brawny build … Outright delicious to tell the truth, and so very brave.’ Núria blushed. ‘Yes, that’s what I thought. I assure you, he didn’t plot against you. He’s trying to help you. He is the one who suggested I should join the wardens.’

Núria glared at the door leading outside. ‘Be that as it may, let us be off. Oghren, Nathaniel, you help Maverlies find the entrance to the deep roads beneath the keep. They’ve cleared away the rubble. The rest will follow me to the Wending Wood.’

‘To look for Wynne’s mage?’ Anders asked.

‘Anders, there’s nothing we can do here at the moment. The dwarf out there certainly won’t need help reinforcing the walls, and Varel told me I should hold court. I don’t see how I can evade that if I am here.’

Anders chuckled at that. ‘Now that’s something I can understand.’

Ϡ

The Wending Wood was a beautiful place, Núria was sure. But now there was fire and darkspawn and blood. And a Dalish woman, killing humans for abducting her sister. ‘Núria!’ Sigrun said sharply. ‘Look.’ She had found a small brooch on one of the darkspawn and held it out to Núria with a frown on her face.

She beckoned the duster to keep walking and took it. ‘Weird. The tree on it looks Dalish. Why would they carry this around?’

Sigrun shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but then again, there are many things about darkspawn that I thought I knew and that turned out wrong.’

Núria huffed. ‘Right. Let’s add one more thing to the list of weird developments.’

‘You’re standing in my dirt.’ Núria jumped.

A woman emerged behind a bush, looking rather put out. ‘Er … your … Um, here I thought this dirt belongs to anyone.’

‘Tha’ dirt was specially prepared for my plants,’ the woman claimed. ‘I only have to find the seeds now. It’s jus’ a matter of time, I’m sure.’

Núria felt Anders nudge her, and it dawned on her who this was. ‘You’re Ines, right?’

The woman righted her robes. ‘Ye’ve hear’ of me, then? Rea’ one of my books, have ye?’

Núria fought down a chuckle. ‘Not exactly. Wynne asked me to find you. The College of Magi is meeting, and she needs a voice of reason there.’

‘She sai’ tha’, di’ she? Hmm … It’s been some time since the College was called together. Why now? No … I can’ go. No’ ye’. I’m no’ leaving till I ge’ the seeds of the northern pricklewee’. I’ve been here too long to jus’ give up.’

‘Would you be looking for that?’ Anders asked, clearing his throat. He produced a small pouch he gathered herbs into and removed a few dark seeds from it.

‘You … I remember you,’ Ines said. ‘Don’ ge’ caugh’ again, jus’ a bi’ of advice.’ When she finally deigned to glance at his hand, and her face lit up. ‘Marvellous! Look a’ them. Magnificent. Such a smooth see’ coa’. Like onyx. You, my friend, are a worker of miracles.’

‘You can have them,’ Anders said generously. ‘I … um admit I took them to spice food. Whatever do you do with it? The plant isn’t even pretty.’

Ines gave Anders a look of slight disgust. ‘It’s no’ supposed to look pretty. If ever you ge’ poisoned by some spider and manage to ge’ an antido’e in time, ask what’s in i’. And now, i’ is time for me to leave. Perhaps our paths will cross again, a’ a later da’e. I hope for ye it’s no’ in the tower, la’.’

Anders smiled after her. ‘I always liked her. She was never as severe as most of the others. But if you said something about her precious plants … ooooh, she’d rant at you for _hours_ on end. I think she knew we were baiting her, but she couldn’t help herself. She must really be in a hurry.’

‘Perhaps we should talk less and move on up that path,’ the curt voice of the spirit of Justice said. ‘There’s something wrong about that place.’

Núria frowned in the direction he was indicating. There was a tent, and a sword was rammed into the ground. And there, hidden behind a tree … were that graves? They approached apprehensively.

They found a dead Dalish elf, a tent, four graves, and discarded weapons. Núria glanced at them. They were in perfect order. It was a miracle to her why anyone would leave them. ‘The tent looks Dalish,’ she said to her party in general. ‘The dead man is Dalish, too. The weapons are from humans. So … What does it mean?’

‘The Dalish stole the weapons, and the humans came to … not take them back but kill the elves all the same?’ Anders muttered. ‘Strange.’

‘Why didn’t you leave when I told you to?’ a harsh voice demanded.

Núria turned to look at the elven mage who was so desperately trying to find her sister.

‘Ooooh,’ Sigrun made, looking as though she had just found out the meaning of life itself. She walked up to the mage, extending her hand to her. ‘We found this on the darkspawn.’

Núria watched the stricken Dalish take something from the duster, her mouth hanging open, her eyes strangely veiled. ‘That … that is Seranni’s. She would never willingly part with that. Our mother gave it to her before she died. Why would the darkspawn do this?’

‘They make females into broodmothers,’ Núria replied, mentally slapping herself for her quick tongue.

The mage stared at her. ‘Are you saying Seranni will become … one of them?’ Núria couldn’t bring herself to voice what exactly she meant, but nodded. ‘I will not allow it!’

Núria smiled weakly. ‘You understand the darkspawn laid a trap? You understand you killed people who had nothing to do with your sister’s disappearance.’

‘But the darkspawn don’t do this! They do not … act like this.’

‘Recently, they even write poetry,’ Anders said. ‘Or I guess they’ll start any time soon.’

‘I’m a Grey Warden, I can help you look for your sister.’

‘You’re a … Then I pledge my magic to your cause.’

Núria grinned at her, but Kristoff interrupted her before she could answer. ‘This elf should be brought to justice. Why should we assist her at all?’

‘Because she’s a looker,’ Anders replied with a leer. ‘What do you think her sister’s like?’

‘Because,’ Núria said sharply, ‘we are Grey Wardens. And because if I didn’t believe in second chances I would have to fall on my own sword in penitence. Can we know your name? If I call you mage, Anders will always think I’m talking to him, and we don’t want that.’

‘Hey!’ Anders protested. Núria winked at him. ‘Right. Have fun at my expense. I can take it.’ He sighed theatrically.

‘My name is Velanna,’ the Dalish elf introduced herself, eyeing Anders with deep contempt. ‘Do you know where the darkspawn might dwell?’

‘Tunnels, most like,’ Núria replied.

‘There’s an abandoned mine near this place. I’ll lead you there.’

Ϡ

They had barely stepped into the caves, when they all stopped dead in their tracks. Two people stood before them. The blotched skin of the dwarven woman told them she was a ghoul. The other, Núria could feel clearly, was darkspawn, and he was powerful. But that wasn’t what shocked her. Perhaps it was his bony appearance that made him look almost like a horror. Perhaps it was the nose that was lopsided, or the metal mask he wore over his eyes, if he had any. But this man, this _thing_ , filled her with a dread as intense as when she had walked up the stairs of Fort Drakon. ‘Shhh, sleep,’ he said in a rough voice. And other than in the Circle Tower under an abominations influence, she didn’t even notice herself grow tired before she collided with the floor.

When she woke up, she remembered a dream of herself on a kind of altar with this creature hovering over her, whispering gentle, soothing words. ‘Seranni!’ she heard Velanna shout and scrambled to her feet. When she saw Velanna’s sister, however, she knew that she was lost. Her skin was almost intact, but her eyes … They had that weird shimmer that gave away the poor woman’s fate. ‘Oh creators, what have they done to you?’

‘They haven’t done anything. I … I’m fine. It’s not me he wants. I have to get out before something bad happens. I don’t want anyone to be hurt. The darkspawn have your things. You can still get them back if you’re careful and clever. They’re going to come to check on you. You have to hurry.’

‘You’re infected,’ Núria said as calmly as she could. ‘You’ll die if you don’t get help.’

‘No. No, I’m fine. He says I’ll be fine.’

‘No, you’re sick!’ Velanna said urgently, clutching at the bars of their prison. ‘We need to get you some help! Seranni, wait!’ But Seranni had already run away, just after unlocking their cell.

They had barely stepped outside when they were attacked. But the darkspawn who had come to check on them had obviously not been expecting them to be out of their cells. Núria, Sigrun, and Justice ran at them while Velanna cast a spell on one of them, freezing him where he was. Anders was right next to Núria, punching one of the darkspawn. Núria pushed him away from the creature. ‘What are you doing? Are you a mage or not?’

Anders blinked. ‘Yeah, right.’

When they were dead, Núria stripped one of them unceremoniously, leaving the shift in which the darkspawn had clad her behind.

‘You cannot wear that,’ Velanna said. ‘It’s disgusting.’

‘Watch me. If I’ve learned one thing, it’s not to be fussy.’

They moved on carefully, trying to avoid too much fighting. Seranni had said they could get their belongings back, but at the moment Núria only had a ripped leather tunic and a sword that looked like it was going to break in half at the first contact with a real weapon. A ghoul, twisted and looking close to death already, stumbled into the corridor from one side and glanced at them with deadened, mad eyes. But her clothes …

Velanna stiffened next to Núria. ‘That … that ghoul has my things! She has it all! I’m going to get it back. Are you with me?’

Núria nodded grimly and attacked. The ghoul was a mage, too, but her mind was so destroyed that killing her was easy. Velanna stripped her with such relish that Núria wondered if she would cut the woman to pieces for good measure once she was done. ‘See? This can be quite satisfactory, don’t you think?’

‘Now you mention it,’ Velanna said grimly, shoving Anders brutally in the shoulder so he was turned around before she changed.

‘You know, you could have just said something,’ the mage protested, but to his credit he didn’t look. Núria thought this was more because he thought he wouldn’t survive the attempt than because he was trying to be polite, though.

‘I bet there’s more of those where this one came from,’ Núria said. ‘What does that thing give our clothes to his ghouls for?’

‘Are you sure you want to know?’ Sigrun asked. ‘I sure don’t.’

They did find more ghouls, and finally, Núria had everything she needed back. With a sigh she wrote her poultices and potions off. She’d rather get out of here quickly and organise new ones than look into every nook and cranny of these caves. ‘Does anyone know where we are?’ she prompted.

‘Somehow I wasn’t paying attention when we were brought here,’ Sigrun said lightly. ‘Why was that again? Ah, yes. We were sleeping.’

‘Justice?’ Núria tried. ‘Perhaps you can … feel a way out?’

‘There are many traces of dark things in this cave, and where we’re heading they get stronger. But I do not know if that is the way out.’

‘You mean we’re going to the thing that caught us?’ Anders asked.

‘It might be the one, yes.’

‘I think we’re heading upwards,’ Sigrun said. ‘Not much, but on the whole, yes. If it stays like this we might get out eventually. You know, Zevran has a great sense of direction for a surfacer. He never asked me for the way in Kal’Hirol. I always thought people from the surface would get lost in a cave with a single side corridor.’

‘I sure would,’ Anders admitted.

‘Me too,’ Núria said. ‘And I would give a lot to have Zevran here. He must have swallowed a compass once.’

‘Ah, compasses,’ Sigrun said with a distant look. ‘One of those great inventions. Like spyglasses. I always wanted one of these. You can see enemies that are miles away as though there were standing right before you.’

Núria made a mental note to give her the spyglass she owned when they got back to the keep. She noticed that what she had said was true. She wished nothing more than to turn around to find Zevran grinning at her, pointing into a corridor and leading them all out. She wished nothing more than to feel his hand on her arm, reassuring her that all was well. But when she looked tentatively behind them, there was no one there, of course, and the pain his absence left had nothing to do with fear of getting lost.

They reached a long, straight corridor that led them to a double winged door with a qunari before it. He was nothing like Sten. He was trading with the darkspawn. Núria wondered what Sten would have done to him and thought she knew the answer. But she wasn’t going to kill him. Instead, she told him to leave and trade with the wardens at Vigil’s Keep instead. She wondered if she was turning into the worst opportunist ever but shoved the thought away. She had to be like that, her responsibility was beyond the guilt and innocence of a single person. Next to him there was a huge crate with all their possession that they had not found on the ghouls. Relieved, she opened the door and stepped through, hoping they were close to the exit now.

She stopped so abruptly that Sigrun bumped into her. On a balustrade, there stood the darkspawn that had taken them, together with the dwarf and Velanna’s sister. ‘Seranni!’ Velanna shouted, but the other woman’s eyes were on the architect. A loud roar that made the room shake made Núria stare at the other end.

She had expected a dragon. They sounded like that, and anyone who had heard one roar once in their life would recognise it at any time. Núria had not, however, expected two dragons.

‘So, what is the Grey Warden course of action in this situation?’ Anders asked. ‘Is cowering an option?’

‘Can you and Velanna keep one in check?’ Núria asked quickly.

By means of an answer, Velanna cast a spell Núria had never seen at the closer animal. It looked as though the air around it had turned solid, locking it in. ‘This won’t hold forever. Do you know the spell, Anders?’ The human mage nodded. ‘Good, but save it for the warrior if the dragon makes a grab for him.’

‘Right, ser,’ Anders replied but put his attention on the three people close to the dragon. Velanna kept the second one in check, while Anders helped kill the first. Once, the dragon indeed took Kristoff into its mouth, and Anders saw it’s jaw close. He reacted quickly enough. The dragon let go of the now protected warden, who fell to the floor unharmed, but unable to move. The creature roared in anger and glared at Anders. ‘No, that wasn’t I, it was … Um, look there on the balustrade, they did …’ The air around the dragon grew dense, tightening around it until it squealed with fear. Blood spurted from its nostrils, and with a terrible scream it crumbled to the floor.

‘Some mage,’ Velanna said contemptuously.

‘I am good at healing. But this is …’

‘Wait, you cannot hurt it before the spell lifts,’ Velanna shouted to the others who backed away from the second creature. ‘We can finish this quickly. Anders, if you and I try to freeze it together it might work. My spell alone won’t do, the body heat of those dragons is too great. I doubt if we can freeze it deeply enough to shatter it, but we can try. Can you try and paralyse it?’

‘Can I … I never got the hang of that one. I can petrify it … I guess.’

‘Then do that … _Now!_ ’ Velanna shouted as the dragon raced purposefully towards Núria.

She knew it was no good to try and run out of harm’s way when the dragon approached her. She only hoped that Anders would be able to save her and that the others could handle the situation without her. She closed her eyes, waiting for the collision. But it never came. When she looked again, the dragon seemed strangely … stony. A rushing sound she recognised raced towards the dragon, knocking it backwards and to the floor. It struggled to get to its feet, but another spell made its movements weak until they ceased. Only the creature’s eyes were moving from one to the next rapidly. Núria ran towards it, hoping it wouldn’t be able to move again once she reached it. With a shout, she plunged her sword into the dragon’s throat. It died without a sound.

Núria ran back towards her companions. ‘Is everyone all right?’ No one answered, but they were all standing, looking shaken and with parts of their armour scorched, but otherwise fine. When Núria looked back up to the balustrade, it was only to see the darkspawn and the two ghouls leaving. ‘No!’ Velanna shouted after them as the darkspawn soared into the air, hurling a spell at the path behind him to block it. ‘Why is she with that monster? We must get to her!’

‘We’ll find another way, I promise,’ Núria said.

‘How? Where does this go?’

‘They are darkspawn, they’ll head to the deep roads.’

‘The home of the children of stone, yes. They say wardens can sense darkspawn even deep beneath the ground. I would join the Grey Wardens. Give me the ability to hunt down these monsters in the Deep!’

‘The Joining could kill you.’ She wasn’t supposed to tell until the moment was there, but she would not let anyone take this risk unwarned.

‘At the very least, it’s very hard to get the taste out of your mouth for a few hours,’ Anders said. His face was screwed up in disgust.

‘Or a few years, one would think,’ Núria said with a smile.

‘I am not afraid of death!’ Velanna said resolutely.

‘You cannot mean to have this murderer join our ranks,’ Justice interrupted. ‘She should not be allowed to escape justice so easily.’

Núria sighed. ‘The wardens aren’t judges. If you join, it doesn’t matter what you were before. Assassins, maleficarum, murderers, traitors. All of them are allowed, if they want to dedicate themselves to our cause. Trust me that none of us here are without guilt. Velanna … Welcome to the Grey Wardens.’

‘ _Ma serannas_ ,’ she said solemnly and Núria assumed it meant something like thank you. ‘Shall we go then? I’ve had enough of this place.’

‘Great idea,’ Anders said. ‘And I’m getting hungry, too. Lousy hosts, these darkspawn.’

 

 


	11. Spiracle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Additional note to the previous chapter:  
> Anders did indeed start hitting things with his fists in my playthrough. I decided I simply had to use that.  
> And Velanna … I wonder, did anyone here play bloodlines? If so, did you realise who had the same voice there?  
> As for this chapter:  
> This is as good as a song-chapter. Spiracle is by Soap&Skin, I recommend to read it with the song in mind, you can find it on Youtube. Just this once I had the title before the chapter, so it’s meant to be ;) ))

_Zevran_

 

The moment Sigrun had entered the keep, Zevran had turned his horse and made haste to the city of Amaranthine. He did indeed want to talk to the hunters once again, but even more so he hoped to find that mage again. For the umpteenth time he listened into himself for _anything_ , any change for the worse, any uneasiness of body or mind but found nothing. He convinced himself that this would most likely mean that it _was_ nothing, but this was not a situation you could be careful enough in.

He reached the city in record time. As he crashed to the chantry, jumping off the back of his horse before it had quite halted and racing up the stairs as fast as he could, he saw himself as a boy, scared that he might die because he was coughing blood after a beating. It was all he could do not to run to the Revered Mother and clutch at the hem of her robe until she brought him a healer as he would have done back then. Instead he walked as calmly as he could towards the next person who looked in charge – the templar he had met earlier – and cleared his throat.

‘Ah, the assassin,’ the templar said. ‘I might have a new job for you. There are rumours of a wanted apostate running loose here. This time we would prefer to get him alive.’

‘I need a healer,’ Zevran told her rather than answering. ‘I might, at least.’

‘You might? You look perfectly healthy.’

‘I might be infected with the darkspawn taint. Or not, I do not know, and I do not wish to wait until I do.’

‘That is … not good. Ines isn’t here anymore, nor Wynne. You see, the more experienced mages have all gone to Cumberland. But there’s a young thing, just past apprenticeship. Come, I‘ll bring you to the confessional.’

‘I’m not dying!’ Zevran protested.

‘No, but it’s more quiet there,’ the templar explained. ‘We do not want a panic, do we?’

Zevran allowed her to lead him to one of the cells. It was larger than he had expected, but then again, this was a very famous chantry. Perhaps everything was a little more pompous here. Again, he remembered his childhood. He had gone to the chantry sometimes. The Crows hadn’t liked that, but this one thing they had allowed their apprentices. He had never dared tell anyone what he was going to be, not even the sisters. He supposed that this was a good thing, because now he felt sure he had been under constant observation, and if he had said anything he shouldn’t have, he would have been flayed or worse.

He didn’t have to wait long. A young beautiful woman entered and crouched before him. ‘Give me your hands,’ she said gently. Her voice was a little husky despite her young age, and it sent a jolt up Zevran’s spine. He reached towards her, and she took his hands in hers, closing her eyes, looking as though she were listening very intently. He never knew how long she held on to him like this, but finally her eyes opened and she looked up at his face. ‘You had contact with the taint, I feel that,’ she said in her breathy voice. ‘But it wasn’t enough to infect you. Still it was wise to come here.’

Zevran swallowed, relief coursing through every fibre of his body. ‘Thank you.’ The vision of a maddened dwarf in the deep roads faded.

The mage was still holding his hands. ‘What did you do, may I ask? You cannot be one of the Grey, or you wouldn’t think you need help.’

‘I went to a chasm leading into the deep roads. And yes, I knew what I was getting myself into.’

A small grin stole onto his face. She was so close, too close in this confined space. Suddenly the confessional was actually quite small. ‘You did! How brave of you!’

‘Either that, or foolish.’ Zevran’s throat was dry. ‘But it wasn’t the first time I was faced with them. You get used to the sight and the smell, and that makes it easier.’

‘Still, I could never do this.’

Zevran had never seen an adult woman look so innocent – and she certainly wasn’t a child. The soft swell of her breasts told that as clearly as her scent, so female, and so close. And suddenly his lips were on hers, and she let out a surprised gasp but didn’t pull away. He pulled his hands out of hers and pressed her groin to his, all thought gone as he felt her heat through her robe. He was hard in an instant and wanted desperately to be inside her … It had been so long, so long. ‘Ser … this is a confessional,’ she breathed against his mouth but nibbled his lower lip all the same.

‘You want this, don’t you?’ he asked her, bucking his hip against hers.

The mage gave a soft moan in reply. She looked at his eyes and a grin formed on her face. ‘Are you Dalish? I hear they have salves that make women succumb to a man in under a minute.’ She traced the slightly faded leaf on his cheek and cocked her head. ‘I’d like to see if you have more of those.’

And suddenly, before him was not this mage, a stranger, but Núria, caressing his cheek and wanting to see him. His body screamed to push her image away, to take advantage of this opportunity like he always had, but he couldn’t. The blood that had collected in his loins returned to his head, fuelling his brain rather than his virility, and he pulled away, panting and flushed. ‘I … apologise,’ he breathed. ‘I cannot … I shouldn’t have crossed that line. Thank you for your help.’

The mage blinked. ‘Did I … say something?’

‘No. Yes. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just remembered that I am not all dead inside. Goodbye.’ With that, he fled into the nave.

‘Wait!’ a voice called after him before he could leave. ‘Would you look for the apostate?’

Zevran turned to face the templar. ‘Yes,’ he said, shrugging off all remaining confusion. ‘What will you pay me for catching him?’

‘Twenty if he is alive, ten if you have to kill him. Be careful, he might be a blood mage.’

Zevran simply nodded and walked out. It took him a while to realise that he hadn’t even asked where to look. A very soft voice pestered him about what gave him the right to judge Núria after this.

His common sense directed Zevran to the market district. It was easiest to remain unseen when you were in the middle of a crowd, after all. Rather than mages, however, Zevran saw templars who were behaving somewhat oddly. One of them was unlocking a door, while another cast furtive glances at the people doing their shopping. Zevran watched them with a slight frown and sat on the side of the road leading out of the market. He only left when it grew dark.

His hostess still had his room, and the two hunters were also still in place. They were very eager to know what he had found, and he informed them quite willingly of all the gruesome details. He hoped that even if that wouldn’t stop the hunters from spreading their tale further, it might at least make travellers rethink visiting. The two hunters gaped at him as he told them of the strange creatures that didn’t look quite like darkspawn and the broodmothers, although he forgot mentioning that those at least had been destroyed. Let the people think the threat was undiminished, he thought.

Zevran revisited the door where the templars had disappeared regularly, but he never saw anyone. He heard sounds from within, however, and could only assume that they were waiting for someone. As far as he knew templars, he thought it would be a mage, and most likely the one he had been asked to take, too. When, a few days later, he saw Nathaniel Howe, a very horrible looking man, and the mage he had watched with Núria enter the city, he wondered if this could be a coincidence.

Zevran kept close to the trio. His suspicion was that they, or Howe, for that matter, might plot against their commander. That did not seem the case, however. The third man made the Antivan curious. He looked extremely ill, as though he had some kind of disease that would sooner or later kill him. Only when he looked at the stranger’s eyes it struck him that this was not the case. The man was literally dead on his feet. His eyes were broken, the skin looked like that of a days old corpse. And given time, Zevran was sure he would smell like that, too.

Howe and Anders found their way to the market, where the noble left with what seemed to be his sister, while Anders moved towards where the templars seemed to have taken residence. He glanced right and left, opened the door, and slipped in. Zevran leaned against the door from outside and waited, straining his ears to hear what was happening in there.

It took a while before there was any sound at all. Then, there was muffled talking, followed by the distinct sound of a battle. He entered soundlessly.

The mage was standing in the middle of three templars, fighting for his life, it seemed. One of the templars suddenly screeched and flung herself onto one of her companions, who was so perplexed he didn’t react in time. Before she was on the other, however, the templar did _something_ , and the spell broke. With a shout, she ran at the mage, but even though he stood before her, her weapons couldn’t reach him. Zevran sneaked up to the second templar who had lifted the spell on his companion and cut his throat from behind. The gurgling noise of her companion made the last remaining templar turn and look at Zevran. ‘Greetings,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, but there are a few answers I can get only from this mage.’ The woman stared at him and blinked. ‘Could I persuade you to just leave?’

‘You die,’ she said. ‘Along with him.’

‘What a pity.’ She lashed out in his direction, but a spell caught her and she stumbled. Zevran simply stuck out his arm and let his dagger glide between the plates of her armour. He looked at the mage. ‘And now, I would like to know whose hide I saved.‘

‘Anders,’ he replied breathlessly. ‘Thank you, ser … They led me into a trap. I thought they had my phylactery here. I wanted to destroy it so they cannot find me anymore.’

‘So … Anders, who exactly is this man you’re travelling with? The dead one, I mean.’

‘Can we talk elsewhere?’ Anders asked, looking around nervously. ‘Just in case they send more of them.’

‘I doubt it. And if they do, I can handle them, I suppose. We stay. Answer my question.’

Anders blinked at him. ‘I … this is none of your business.’

Zevran grabbed the retreating mage’s arm, very aware that this might be a dangerous course of action. ‘You are a blood mage. I’m not a templar, but I saw what you did. You’re a maleficar travelling with a traitor’s son and a walking corpse. What is it you intend to do?’

‘I intend to leave. Unhand me, or you will regret it.’

‘Watch your mouth, or you’ll regret something too. Like bedding the Warden Commander.’ Anders blanched. ‘So why are you not at Vigil’s Keep, and why are you travelling with a demon?’

‘A spirit. He’s not a demon. He … had an accident. Long story. And Howe is the son of a traitor, but so far he has been loyal. And I … Maker, you must be Zevran. I never got to … She … you’re punishing her for something she didn’t do.’

‘Which leaves the question why you are not at the keep.’

‘Núria is holding court. And she has a number of letters to answer and a couple to read. And those were between me and another mage, so it’s not an easy read for someone with no knowledge of magic. You won’t do her a favour if you kill me, she needs my help in this.’

‘Coward. You’re still a blood mage.’

‘She allowed me! And … what should I do, let them take me? They’d kill me or make me Tranquil! And honestly, I don’t know which is worse.’

‘I agreed to deliver you. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.’

‘I’ll pay you more than they.’

‘Tsk, tsk. It doesn’t work like that. Do you think I have no honour?’

Anders swallowed. ‘Look, the wardens need help. We are currently six, one of us is technically already dead as you well noticed. There isn’t a blight, but something else. The darkspawn are … changing, they can think, and there are two … parties of them fighting each other, and wherever their forces collide, everyone dies.’

‘True. But would losing a coward be so horrible? You’ll bolt if you see darkspawn, I bet.’

Anders glared at him. ‘I’m not made to kill, but I can fight. And I am _not_ a coward, whatever you may think. I followed the commander into the Blackmarsh and a cave full of darkspawn. And just for your information, I have no intention to … to seduce her. This one accident was awkward enough, thank you very much.’

‘So you think she isn’t attractive?’ Zevran asked, putting on a glare.

Anders flinched. ‘No … no, that’s not what I’m …’ he stuttered to a halt. ‘You’re baiting me, right?’ Zevran rolled his eyes and turned to leave. ‘You … you didn’t send assassins after her, did you?’

Zevran froze and turned back to look at the mage. ‘Now why would I do that?’

Anders shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Because … some nobles were opposing her, and they had Crows to help them.’

‘She thinks I sent them?’ Zevran asked flatly, and the mage nodded. ‘Well … I … no.’ He felt like someone had put him in too tight plate mail. ‘But if someone wants her dead you shouldn’t be here. Take the others and leave. And keep her safe.’

‘Why don’t you just go back? She’d bounce around the entire keep if you would.’

Zevran snorted. Suddenly he was seven all over again: untrusted, unwanted, and what was worst of all – it hurt in a place he had thought his training had numbed for good. ‘And wait for me to stab her in the back. I think I’ll pass.’

 

 


	12. Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((So here my great plan of changing POV with every chapter goes to hell anyway. Oh, never mind. This is the second relatively short chapter, but I didn't want to cramp the Mother into it.  
> Grace is a Within Temptation song, but it’s less obligatory than Spiracle was for the previous one.))

_Núria_

 

Núria had to make haste for the city. She prayed silently that she would meet Anders, Nathaniel, and Justice on the road, for otherwise chances were that they were dead. The darkspawn, an entire army of them, were attacking the city, and Varel had pressed her to take someone with her. She had refused, informing him that she would surely meet the three wardens on the road.

She had barely ridden past the gates when she spotted the others. ‘Turn around. There is an army attacking Amaranthine.’

‘There wasn’t one when we left,’ Nathaniel said, looking alarmed.

‘We had a courier telling us. You don’t look as though you’d been in a hurry.’ The two living men exchanged a glance. ‘Never mind, I’m not blaming you, but, we’re going back. I have provisions. Off we go.’

When they were within sight of the city, the sounds of fighting could be heard clearly. As they drew closer, they saw bodies of guards as well as civilians littering the ground. ‘How can they have done so much harm so quickly?’ Anders asked desperately. Nathaniel looked shaken, and Núria couldn’t blame him. She knew he had left with the other two to find his sister. Who was to say she wasn’t among the dead?

They joined in the battle at once, trying to cut a path to the commander of the guards. The constable, however had seen her already and was running towards her.

A calloused hand clutched at Núria’s arm, and as she spun, she looked at one of the citizens. ‘Please, Grey Warden. Save my family! My family is in the city!’

Núria shook him off and glared at the constable. ‘Weren’t you in charge of Amaranthine’s defence?’

The constable looked ashamed. ‘I failed in my duty. But believe me, Warden Commander, there was no chance for success. A few nights ago, a swarm of … of gruesome _creatures_ emerged from beneath the city. Then, at dawn, the other darkspawn attacked. Warden Commander … it’s too late. Amaranthine is lost.’

‘There are people alive in the city,’ Anders said emphatically. ‘We cannot just let them die.’

‘The buildings might remain, but there will be few survivors so long after those creatures appeared,’ the constable said firmly. ‘Their corruption is so virulent … At least a quarter of the city succumbed within the first day.’

‘Constable, there,’ one of the guards shouted, aiming an arrow at a single darkspawn running towards them.

‘Do not kill!’ the thing called as is ran towards them.

‘What do you want?’ Núria asked harshly.

‘The Mother’s army, it marches to Vigil’s Keep,’ the darkspawn said quickly. ‘She attacks now. The Architect, he sends me to warn you! You must save the keep, then finish the Mother in her lair.’

‘Vigil’s Keep is under attack?’

‘The Grey Wardens are valuable to the Architect,’ the darkspawn continued, ignoring her interjection. ‘The Mother, she knows this.’

Núria heard the people around here discussing what they had heard, but she knew what her duty was. She wondered if Duncan had felt like this when he had killed Ser Jory. ‘Burn the city,’ she said softly, but everyone around her heard her.

‘No,’ Anders said. ‘We can’t just … Núria, your assassin is somewhere in there! I saw him when I was here.’

Núria felt something cold grip her heart. ‘Then he is almost certainly either dead or infected. We return to the keep. No, Nate, I’m not arguing this with you. If he is still in the city only the Maker himself can save him. And trust me, I pray he will.’

 

_Zevran_

 

Zevran was roused by a high-pitched scream just outside his window. He was wide awake at once and darted out of bed to see what was happening. What he saw made his breath hitch. There were darkspawn, here in the city, and they were everywhere. He scrambled into his clothes and ran down and out of the hostel, swords in hand. He found one of the city guards taking flight and darted after the man. ‘Oi! Where do you think you’re going?’

The man froze. ‘I’m … we stand no chance.’ He was barely more than a boy. ‘They’re … too many for us. Leave!’

Zevran shook his head. ‘You leave. Give me your uniform or they won’t let you out.’ The plate would hinder him, but he had a feeling he might yet need a uniform. ‘Ride to Vigil’s Keep with all haste and tell them of the assault. Take my horse, it’s in the stables, the palomino. Quickly!’ The young man clambered out of his uniform with Zevran’s help and assisted him getting into it. It didn’t fit him too well, he was slightly smaller than the human, but it would do. He jammed the helmet onto his head and ran to the constable, waiting for instructions.

They were driven further out of the city with every passing hour. Zevran thought he would collapse with exhaustion any moment, but he remained on his feet, fighting into the night and then the next day until he lost track of time. A chantry sister was bringing water and food to the soldiers and something in the water made a few of them fall asleep, Zevran included. When he woke again a few hours later, most of those who hadn’t slept were dead or so tired they would fall any moment. He would be among them, he thought, if the woman hadn’t had the sense to put something into the water. She was right, it was no good if they died of exhaustion. He found the constable and told him as much. The man merely nodded and sent the other half away to rest.

When Zevran saw people approaching, he knew at once who it was. He fought his way to the road and listened to every word. He was glad for his disguise now. If he kept his distance on the small party’s way to the keep, he might be able to blend in with the soldiers. His uniform was different, but in the middle of a battle no one would look at such things. He wondered if he had somehow lost his sanity for following a woman who couldn’t even be bothered to look for him, but one look beyond the line of fighting told him that her decision was in fact the only sensible one as well as the only one her responsibility allowed.

 

_Núria_

 

Guilt was eating away at her as she talked to Varel about strategies to defend the keep. With every moment the question what if Zevran had still been alive kept nagging at her with more power, and she feared that the thought would overwhelm her. But it was too late, it had already been too late when they had arrived at the city, she kept telling herself.

The assault on the keep came soon, but they were prepared. The walls would hold against ogres even, she was assured, and there were archers and someone with most impressive explosives only waiting to launch them at the darkspawn. She informed him to keep the road through the main gate on fire if he could and instructed her soldiers not to venture beyond for any reason.

Garavel, the captain of the soldiers, had scouts on the wall to let them know where they were needed most, and Núria kept darting after him wherever he went. She lost track of her other wardens, only Anders and Oghren kept close all the time. In the confusion of battle she heard a pained scream from the mage and ran in his direction. One of the darkspawn centipedes had sprouted spindly legs with which it was pinning him to the floor. Judging from the bloodstains building on his sleeves they had penetrated his arms. It was snapping at him while he desperately struggled to free himself. Núria hacked at the thing until she heard the shell crack, and it rounded on her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the soldiers running towards Anders to patch him up. When she had killed the creature, the mage was indeed standing again, with thick bandages around his lower arms and a rather pale face.

The fight went on for hours, and when an ogre with solid plate mail stepped through the open gates, she saw her soldiers back off. She couldn’t blame them. ‘Who would put an ogre into plate mail?’ she wondered aloud, and the same soldier, who was standing beside her, shrugged. She glanced at him for a moment. His uniform had the emblem of the city on the breastplate. But she couldn’t consider this now. ‘Dworkin!’ Núria screamed at the top of their lungs for the dwarf who had told her he had explosives ready. ‘Get him! All others stay away!’ Only a moment later an explosion shook the earth, knocking Núria to the ground even though she had been quite far away from its centre. The ogre was knocked off balance and landed on its back. ‘Again!’ Núria shouted, finally seeing that Dworkin was standing on the walls right above her, grinning like a maniac. He flung a small looking flask to where the ogre was struggling to get back on its feet, and another equally gigantic boom rent the air. The ogre moved no more, and Núria approached. She found Varel near it, unmoving, and the way his neck was angled, she knew he never would.

Before she could say something, a single darkspawn entered the keep. She felt the sheer power of the creature with every fibre. ‘On him!’ she shouted, and every soldier near her ran towards him, including the one in the city’s uniform and Oghren. Roots were sprouting from the floor where the thing stood, one of them shooting right up and into the chest of the creature.

‘That’s for my sister,’ Velanna said.

‘We … we’ve won,’ Garavel said incredulously. ‘The price was dear, but the Vigil holds. Varel … Varel would be proud.’

‘We’ve got to find the Mother,’ Núria said. ‘We have no time to rest.’

‘Following their trail should not prove a challenge,’ Sergeant Maverlies said.

‘They will need time before they move again,’ Garavel mused. ‘You should rest as well.’

Núria knew he was right, but it wasn’t an option. ‘I cannot. They can replenish their number in no time. We’ve got to go now. Justice, Anders, Velanna, with me. Oghren, you take command while I’m gone.’

‘Wait!’ a firm voice said behind her, and Núria froze. ‘Wait a moment.’

The soldier in the armour with the emblem took his helmet off. Slowly her heart fell back into its rhythm.

‘You’re alive,’ she breathed. ‘Oh _Zevran_.’ Núria sighed in relief, but when he strode up to her with both swords drawn, she stiffened.

With a yell of frustration, he cast his weapons aside before he continued to her. Before he reached her, the tip of her sword was at his throat. ‘I told you once, you will not feel good about it if you kill me,’ he warned her softly. ‘Listen to me.’

Núria glared at him. ‘Where were you when I needed you, Zevran? Where were you when I was cast into the Fade by darkspawn? Where were you when I was kidnapped by another?’ Her voice had gone louder with every word. ‘What were _you_ doing? When having me assassinated didn’t work you came yourself to finish the job?’

‘I’m not the one with a sword against your throat, am I? But you are right, I should have been here. Let me be there now.’ He swallowed. Saying this wasn’t easy. Her fear of him was visible, and it hurt more than anything else had. ‘Do you really think I would harm you?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know what to believe any more.’

Zevran made a step backwards. He fought the lump in his throat away before he spoke. ‘Then you cannot take me with you. Take someone you trust. Me … you will not see again.’

‘Don’t move,’ Núria said softly, but Zevran obeyed as quickly as if she had yelled at the top of her voice. ‘Garavel, take him to the dungeon. Take his armour and look very thoroughly for hidden weapons. Place two guards at his cell. Give them a poison to coat their weapons with … something that isn’t fatal but will make him fall asleep if he tries anything. I want him alive when I return. And I want him treated decently.’

Without a backwards glance, Núria left him standing there, looking more defeated than she had ever seen him.

 

_Zevran_

 

He could barely believe what she had just done, and yet, the proof in form of the Captain approached him with two soldiers. ‘Let the lad do this himself, no need to make this worse than it is,’ a rough voice said, and Zevran saw Oghren approach him. ‘Come on, you can change in the dungeon with fewer eyes on you. Garavel, I’ll be watching him. Send me one of your soldiers. And no poison. By the ancestors, you made her really mad.’

Zevran allowed himself to be led off by the dwarf. His resistance had died at her command to seize him. She, who had given him a life of his own, was throwing him into a prison. And still he couldn’t help himself. ‘Oghren, let me go. I … I would never hurt her. I want to help her!’

‘Trust me, those three are more than able. She’ll be back. And she’ll let you go. Now get in there and let me lock you in, or them soldiers’ll force you to. They’re too many for you.’

That, Zevran knew, was certainly true.

Down in this cellar, Zevran had no idea how long he waited. Most of the time Oghren was sitting outside his cell, and when he returned after a change of shift, he always brought ale and shared it with Zevran. He didn’t talk much, but Zevran was grateful for that. Once he could leave, he would be able to put all this behind him. And slowly, the pain ebbed away into resignation.

 

 


	13. Extinguish Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((A Soap&Skin title as chapter heading again.))

_Núria_

 

Following the trail was truly simple. All grass was gone from where the darkspawn had trampled over it, and where they had travelled flagged paths, those were in a sorry state too. Núria followed them to the north-west into a place that looked as dead as the Blackmarsh, only that it wasn’t wet. Instead, it was as though they had walked into a desert. Bones were scattered on the ground – bones of gigantic creatures Núria did not wish to make contact with. She thought she knew what kinds of animals had such bones, but she refused to dwell on the thought.

Here again, it was clear that there were two parties of darkspawn waging war on each other. She held her companions back when they wanted to join in the battle, waiting for the creatures to weaken each other before she slew them. This was probably not the fastest way leading to the Mother, but certainly the safest. The so-called Children seemed to become more dangerous as they grew. She had seen how they had attacked Anders with their spindly legs, but she had underestimated their speed. When one of them jumped on top of her, she thought she was dead for sure, but then a spell hit her, and she felt like she was floating, the ground beneath her as impalpable as the mandibles of the creature above her. The thing trying to attack her seemed to realise its efforts were futile and dedicated itself to Justice.

Anders appeared in her field of vision and offered a hand to help her stand. ‘Sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.’

Núria frowned. ‘I cannot see why you would apologise for saving my neck.’

‘You sound like Justice. What’s bothering you?’

‘Hmm, could it be the darkspawn?’ Núria swiped at a genlock. ‘Or perhaps the prospect of the Mother? I have a hunch what that’ll be like, and I tell you I’m not looking forward to it.’

‘You should be looking forward to returning to the keep and clarifying things with your Zevran,’ Anders said sagely. Núria had just formed a retort in her mind when a terrible scream from above made it slip her mind. ‘This is a high dragon,’ Anders breathed unnecessarily. The darkspawn around them attacked the beast at once, and Núria saw Justice march towards it, too. ‘There’s a door,’ Anders said sharply. ‘Look, we didn’t come here for slaying dragons, did we?’

Núria nodded. ‘He’s right, into the tunnels … Now!’

The dragon had picked up one of the darkspawn and used it like a mace to knock down the others. Now it turned its attention on Justice, emitting an ear-splitting roar. Velanna grabbed hold of the warrior’s hand with a slightly disgusted look on her face and dragged him towards the other two. They had barely got into the tunnels when the dragon’s nostrils poked through the door, sniffing for them. A few feet away, they all stood rooted to the spot and watched until the creature retreated, knowing it couldn’t follow.

‘Seranni!’ Velanna shouted suddenly, and Núria turned to look.

There she stood indeed, her skin a little more damaged then the last time she had seen her. ‘I am glad to see that you are well, sister. You have to understand before you continue. The Architect has freed the darkspawn, and they search for a place in this world, just like the Dalish are searching. Everything he’s done, he’s done for his people. You can respect that, sister, can’t you?’

‘They’re monsters,’ Núria interrupted. ‘They’re not a people.’

‘They have a bestial nature, but I’ve seen them overcome it. They just need to be shown how.’

‘Then come with us so that you can tell others,’ Núria suggested, hoping to get her to a healer and that it wasn’t too late to help her.

‘No, I have work to do. The Architect is waiting for me, and for you. He will explain everything. You will see as I have seen.’

Velanna called after her, but it was no good.

‘We’ll find her,’ Núria said.

What they did find were three towers with strange sockets on the floor. Velanna eyed them for a while before she darted here and there, taking carved and polished crystals and setting them into the sockets. A white light danced above the stones, and Velanna looked rather pleased with herself.

‘So what precisely is this?’ Núria asked her after admiring her work for a few moments.

‘Magic,’ Velanna explained. ‘Old Tevinter magic, I would assume. And I think I will be able to control it.’

‘You think?’ Anders asked suspiciously.

Velanna, despite being shorter than him, managed to give the impression of someone looking down at a foolish child. ‘The worst that can happen is nothing at all. How a grown man can scare so easily.’

The human mage seemed to have reached the end of his patience. ‘I am not scared.’ His was frowning, and his voice was getting louder with every word. ‘I just wonder if some kind of unknown magic is really the answer to our problems.’

Núria placed a hand on his arm. ‘Calm down.’

‘No, I won’t! I’ve had it with being called a fool and a coward!’

Velanna let out a soft snort.

‘Enough,’ Núria said angrily. ‘I do not tolerate the recruits I choose to be ridiculed, is that clear?’

Velanna swallowed. ‘Yes, commander.’

‘Anders … try and don’t listen,’ Núria said to him in an undertone as they proceeded. ‘They have her sister. Keep that in mind.’

‘And so we meet again,’ a familiar voice said above Núria, and she craned her neck to find the darkspawn who had kidnapped her above her. It struck her that he had to be the Architect that had been mentioned to her. Next to him was the dwarven ghoul that had been with him in the Wending Wood as well. ‘I owe you an apology, Commander. When last we met, I intended to explain myself. Fate, however, intervened.’

‘I escaped, you mean,’ Núria answered.

‘I restrained you only to prevent the misunderstanding that occurred with the rest of your order.’ The Architect soared gracefully to the floor where they were. ‘I wanted to ask the Grey Wardens for help, but I should have foreseen that they would view the approach of my disciple as a threat. I am rarely able to judge how your kind will react. It was most unfortunate.’

‘What did you need the Grey Wardens for?’ She wondered how hard it would be to fight this thing. She hadn’t anticipated him to be here, which, she thought now, had been careless.

‘I took their blood as I took yours, because I had little choice. Things have not gone as I planned. I only ask that you hear me out. Should you still wish to slay me afterwards, you may try.’

‘Spill it already, then.’

The Architect was entirely unimpressed with her sharp tone. ‘My kind has ever been driven to seek out the Old Gods. This is our nature. When we find one, a blight is begun. Each time, we attack your surface lands, and you fight back until we are defeated. To break the cycle, my brethren must be freed of their compulsion. For that I need Grey Warden Blood.’

Núria wanted to ask why, but then the Architect’s logic struck her, and she wondered if this mad plan could actually work. ‘Like we need yours.’ He nodded, looking almost proud that she had cottoned on so quickly. ‘Does that work?’

‘It works for you to take the taint into yourselves. What we take is your resistance.’

Núria nodded slowly. ‘But we cannot resist forever. After a few decades, we die.’

‘That is not entirely true. Take Utha. She is not dead.’ He indicated the dwarven woman above them. ‘She was the first to give her blood, freely. She was a Grey Warden, as you are, and joined us … many years ago. As you see, she is alive, and she is not mad.’ Núria had to admit that the Architect had a point there. ‘I cannot defeat the Mother alone, and I cannot free the darkspawn unless she is defeated. Our goals are the same.’

‘For the moment. And so for the moment … you have an ally.’ She could hear their protests before the others had opened their mouths. ‘I am _not_ arguing, I said that once before.’ Justice stiffened, and for a moment she thought he would turn against her, but he didn’t. Anders looked thoroughly unhappy. ‘Trust me,’ she said, and the mage nodded.

‘I cannot trust your lead in this,’ Justice said. ‘But I will follow it. For now.’

Thanking Núria for the leap of faith and promising assistance against the Mother, the Architect retreated, and Núria led on into a tunnel that was so small even she had to crouch slightly.

She had known it all along, Núria decided when she finally laid eyes on the mother. She was nothing other than a broodmother, and with an almost scientific interest, Núria realised that she had to have been a human once. A projection of the architect appeared beside Núria as she stood before the Mother, who was not at all happy about his appearance, saying he took away the music.

‘It was a mistake to free you,’ the Architect said sadly. ‘It has left you with madness. I am truly sorry.’

This at least was true. If other darkspawn were mindless, this creature was insane. ‘Ah, but perhaps the Warden would like to hear how it was that the Father began the blight?’ The projection lowered its head. ‘You want the source of the archdemon, the one who brought all our kind to the surface? Here he is!’

‘Ah, there it is then,’ the Architect said ruefully. ‘Unfortunate. I did find the Old God, Urthemiel. But I did not wish another blight. I attempted my Joining ritual. My hope was that this would free all darkspawn, unravel the curse from its source. Alas, I was unlucky.’

Núria sighed. ‘The blight would have come without your help sooner or later. And it doesn’t change that the Mother has to die.’ She prepared herself for a bitter fight when the creature gave an angry scream.

Tentacles shot out of the soft earth, and Núria looked desperately for somewhere safe to stand, but there was nothing. With Velanna and Anders working together for once, they managed to control the things systematically, and one by one, they all curled up and disappeared underground. The Mother screamed again, and more of the Children appeared, attacking from all sides.

A rumbling sound like thunder came from above, and a burning rock crashed onto the floor directly before the Mother. Her creatures screamed, and Núria felt the terrible heat through her armour, but she was unharmed, only Anders had to slap out a small flame on his robes. The Children, however, lay dead, and the Mother was squirming, trying to get away from the flames. Velanna closed her eyes in concentration, and with a rushing sound some invisible force collided with the Mother, coming from far away and above. Núria could only assume it had to do with the crystals the Dalish had collected before. Rather than pondering this, however, she ran forwards, ramming her sword into the Mother’s mouth with both hands. Blood spurted from her, and Núria jumped aside to avoid being showered in it. With her tentacles the creature tried to get rid of the weapon but failed, and slowly her desperate flailing faltered.

Ϡ

The journey back to Vigil’s Keep felt a lot shorter – an experience Núria had made before. She had originally intended to kill the Architect after the Mother if they were able, but he had fled, and Núria had no wish to pursue him. Even Justice had not mentioned her short alliance with him again, and Anders had admitted that her course had been the best. The fight with the Mother had cost him a lot, and Núria felt almost guilty for having taken him along after he had been injured at the keep. Velanna was silent and dejected because her sister had left with the Architect, but she was returning with them, at least.

When they reached the keep, Núria fumbled for something in a pocket before she entered the dungeon, dragging a reluctant Anders along. Wordlessly, Núria motioned for Oghren and the other guard to leave before she unlocked the door to Zevran’s cell. ‘Your things are in this box. You are free.’ Zevran nodded and changed silently into a set of leather armour she must have procured for him, for he had left his in the city. He saw his earring on her lobe and frowned. She hadn’t worn it before, not even at the battle. ‘Where will you go?’ she asked him very softly, obviously forcing herself to speak evenly.

Zevran shrugged. ‘Antiva is still not an option. Perhaps Orlais? See Val Royaux?’ Núria nodded and bit her lower lip, turning away from him, waiting for him to leave. ‘ _Te quiero, Núria_ ,’ she heard him say, and even though she didn’t understand the words, she had the terrible feeling she knew what it meant. ‘ _Te … te amo. Buena suerte, cariño mio._ ’

She heard him move and spun around to stare at him. ‘What did you just say?’ He was almost at the door already and didn’t stop walking. ‘Zev … Would you like me to think you called me names on your departure?’

‘Do you think that?’ he asked, purposefully opening the door and striding through without waiting for an answer.

She hesitated, but a gentle hand tried to urge her to follow. When she didn’t react, she felt electricity flowing from the same hand, making her jump away. ‘Go already,’ Anders said. ‘ _Move_.’

Núria burst through the door and crossed the short distance between it and Zevran, catching him by the wrist. He stopped instantly. ‘I don’t,’ she said, answering his question. ‘Tell me. Just this once. Tell me, Zev.’ She saw his lips tremble, but his mouth remained shut. She forced a smile onto her face. ‘You know, Sigrun has read every book in the keep in the short time she’s been here. I’m sure she can tell me, she muttered something about Antivan milk sandwiches, so perhaps she knows something other than recipes too.’

A very slow frown formed on his face as Zevran looked at Núria again. ‘Do you think this is amusing?’

‘No, not even remotely. But the point is that I will know what you said.’

‘If you can reproduce it to her.’

‘The first was _te quiero_ , the second _te amo_ , and then … _buena serpiente_ or something.’

Despite himself, Zevran smiled at that. ‘Close enough. Just indulge me why you would care.’

‘Because,’ Núria said carefully and very aware of how much depended on her next words, ‘I wonder if you shouldn’t come with me to the Circle Tower. I must go there with Anders, but I … if you would want to come, I would be … very happy.’

‘You had me thrown into a dungeon, Núria! If you’re that scared of me, why on earth would I force my presence on you?’

Núria looked away, unable to see the pain in his eyes. ‘It wasn’t so much that I was scared of you … But there was _no time_. And I thought you would be gone when I returned. You said you would leave. I am … sorry. I had no right to do this to you. I promised you freedom.’

‘You did.’ Suddenly Zevran’s feet didn’t obey his order to continue walking. ‘Of you of all people I had expected more than this,’ he said by means of a displacement activity.

‘I am so sorry. You are a free man. And … if you do not wish me to know what you said, you do not have to tell me, of course.’

‘If I do, who’s to say I wasn’t lying?’ Zevran asked her, his hand reaching for hers on its own accord. He realised he was doomed. ‘Some people do that, they say all sorts of things they don’t mean.’

‘Not you. Do … do you really wish to leave? Because if you do … don’t make it worse for me by waiting.’

‘I don’t want to. But I cannot stay either, not if you do not trust me anymore.’ Núria took the small dagger she kept in her boot. She manoeuvred Zevran’s hand to the soft skin under her left ear and placed her blade in it. It clattered to the ground a few feet behind her almost the moment she released his hand. ‘Point made,’ he said, stroking his thumb over her pulse, brushing her earring as though by accident. Suddenly her arms were around his waist with her face buried in his shoulder, and she was shaking from head to toe, and whatever objection he might have had in mind vanished. His mouth moved to her ear, and as he held her against him, the simple truth spilled out of him. ‘I love you. Forgive me if it took me a while to understand that.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I know you cannot evade the fight with the dragon in the game, but there is no reason why it wouldn’t work for them, really. And I am hereby where I wanted to get all the time: Next chapter will be officially post-Awakening.))  
>  


	14. Surrendering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Here I stand, I can do no other, or some such. Surrendering is a very sweet song by Alanis Morissette, which, I think, fits perfectly for Zevran in general and this chapter in particular.))

Núria heard a door open and close behind her and forced herself out of Zevran’s embrace. ‘Don’t mind me, I just thought I’d look if anyone needs healing,’ Anders said with a small smile.

‘Aside from you, no,’ Zevran told him. ‘Bandages are a good thing, but my guess is you can do better than I.’

Anders blinked at him. ‘That was _you_. But why? You could have killed me in Amaranthine, or just let the templars do the work, and here again you could just let things go their way.’

Zevran shrugged. ‘I never had a right to be jealous. As I understood it, I’m to remain in your company for the time being. Or what was that about the Circle Tower?’

Anders grinned. ‘Oooh, that. Our commander here will tell you all the details I’m sure. I wouldn’t want to spoil this for her, she’s been looking forward to this like a child for presents.’

‘I’m standing right here, Anders,’ Núria protested, but Zevran laughed.

‘Ah, well,’ he said. ‘So tell me of your most recent devious plan.’

Núria scratched her head. ‘That will be difficult.’ She smiled as Zevran fell into step beside her as though it were the most natural thing in the world to do when she set off towards the entrance. ‘How do I explain something I don’t really understand? See? I’m confusing you already.’

‘That’s nothing all too new.’ Zevran put his arm around her waist as they walked.

‘Hang on … Garavel!’

Both Zevran and Anders flinched at her loud shout, and Garavel came running. ‘You’re back! I was just checking with …’

Núria waved him away. ‘Tell me later. I need a few letters sent with great haste. One to Orzammar … Take one of the pigeons for that. Write to Leliana Varèse that I will be in the Circle Tower soon, so if she wants to send a letter to me, she should send it there … And tell her that I’ll visit her once I’m done. One to Wynne, who is presumably in the Circle Tower in Cumberland. Write to her that the Warden Commander needs her really badly, and if she can at all leave, she should please, please come to Ferelden. To the Tower. And tell Justice I have to talk with him some time later.’

Garavel glanced sideways at Zevran and looked very much as though he wanted to ask her something, but instead he saluted and left for the pigeonry. Barely into the keep, a servant spotted Núria and Zevran and walked towards them. ‘A new room for a new recruit?’

Núria smiled. ‘No thank you, but a hot bath for me would be nice.’ The servant scuttled away. ‘Am I assuming too much? Would you want a room for yourself?’ she asked almost anxiously when they were alone again.

Zevran leaned down to kiss her. ‘I’ve been alone long enough.’

Núria squeezed him tightly and brought him up to her quarters. From her office, a door led into what looked much more like an expensive apartment than a soldier’s abode. The living room had a fireplace in it and a very cosy looking sofa with a small table in front of it. One door opened into the bathroom, another into a small but sufficient kitchen, and the last one into a bedroom with a four-poster bed that was large enough for three qunari. Near a window there was beautiful vanity, a dark wooden armoire stood against the opposite wall, and an ornamental folding-screen was between it and the bed. A fluffy dark red shaggy carpet covered the floor, only the walls were an eggshell white. On either side of the bed was a small bedside table, one of them piled with letters.

Zevran smiled. ‘This is not what I expected. But I certainly like it.’

A soft knock announced servants bringing hot water to fill the large tub, and Núria tossed them a few silvers before they left. ‘Forgive me if I’m being unceremonious, but I’ve got get this stench off me,’ she said, stripping effectively and throwing her armour out into the corridor.

‘What was the Mother like?’ Zevran asked her, but she shook her head.

‘Not now.’ She stepped close to him. ‘I’d rather not relive this just yet.’

‘Certainly.’ He put his hands on Núria’s sides and caressed her gently, pulling her against him. ‘Would you mind me joining you in that tub? I’m smelling of mouldy dungeon despite having changed.’

Núria looked up at him with a watery smile, and Zevran kissed her again, more courageously this time. His tongue probed at her lips and they parted at once, allowing him entrance.

‘I’d love that,’ she whispered against his mouth, tugging at Zevran’s armour.

He beamed at her as he let her strip him, wondering vaguely how stupid he had been to walk out on her just outside this room. ‘I really had no right to be jealous,’ he whispered, following her into the hot water. ‘For all you knew I had … cast you aside like you did with your armour.’

Núria snuggled against him, enjoying the feel of his skin on hers. ‘Leliana told me you would come back. I nearly threw away your earring in my anger, but she stopped me. She’ll be so happy to see you’re back with me.’ Her eyes found his. ‘Not nearly as happy as I am, though.’

Zevran stretched himself out in the tub and pulled Núria onto his stomach to kiss her. ‘I want you to know that I would never leave you like that, with just a note. Are you certain I am worth the trouble, my love? My past catching up with me is something that can happen again.’

‘I wonder … is your contract on me still valid?’

‘With the customer dead, I doubt that very much. If I were to bring your head to Antiva they might let me return. Or they might kill me anyway, you can never tell. But I would never hurt you, surely you know this.’ Núria nodded. She sat up and started washing dirt and blood out of her hair, and Zevran assisted her, his hands gentle, his lips almost constantly on her skin. ‘So, I’ll try again … What was that about the Circle Tower?’

Núria sighed. ‘I want to recruit someone. You never … Oh, hang on, you saw him! The mage in Redcliffe, Jowan. But he has been made Tranquil.’

‘So what? You’d like to have a talking statue?’

Núria snorted. ‘No, but … when you had … left, I went to the Tower to conscript him, I didn’t know what they’d done to him. And I met another mage, a friend of his. And now she and Anders have been trying to work out if it is at all possible to reverse the process. In her last letter she wrote only four words: I know a way.’ Zevran nodded. ‘Look if you’d rather not … travel in Anders’s company I understand that.’

‘Nonsense. I realise you like him, but you like Oghren, too. And you are sharing this tub with _me_ , and not one of them. And I believe you. That you never slept with him. I should perhaps tell you that you are not the only one who nearly succumbed to the temptation of a mage.’

Núria turned around in Zevran’s arms. ‘Oh? Anders hinted he had a brush with you, but I never thought …’ Zevran burst into laughter, and she fell silent. ‘Not Anders, then,’ she said with a grin. ‘Pity.’

‘Pity?’ Zevran echoed with raised eyebrows.

Núria cocked her head at him. ‘You think I never let my thoughts drift before we actually got close?’ she asked him, painting a wet flourish on his chest with one finger. ‘Ever since you mentioned your experience with other men I wondered what it would be like.’

‘What what would be like, exactly? To watch? To join in?’ She nodded, blushing crimson. ‘Interesting,’ Zevran said with a smile. ‘You would not be jealous?’

‘If I were involved in some way, why would I?’

Zevran chuckled. ‘Fair enough. Although I guess my tolerance towards Anders doesn’t go that far.’

‘Which brings us back to your temptation.’

‘Hmm … I am sure Sigrun told you who brought her here?’

Núria nodded. ‘Thank you, by the way, she’s great.’

‘You’re welcome, my love. Well, I very stupidly had close contact with darkspawn blood.’ Núria sat up straight and looked worried at once. ‘Oh, I’m all right, but I got nervous, and I asked a mage to check on me. Said mage was a very young girl, and we were alone in a confessional. But I resisted, I am proud to say. To tell the truth, I very suddenly had to think of you, and I … couldn’t, so there wasn’t so much self-control on my part required as you might think.’

Núria smiled. ‘The great Zevran was let down by his manliness, and all that because of me? But your contact with the blood, how bad was it?’

‘It felt like I would puke my guts out and die,’ Zevran said, shivering slightly. ‘I don’t think I got more into my mouth than perhaps a tiny little drop, but it was as though my entire head was going to be consumed by fire.’

‘It wasn’t like that for me. The Joining, I mean. It was unpleasant, but not that painful.’

‘My guess is, I would die if I actually drank a good mouthful of this stuff.’

‘Well, we will certainly not try it.’ Núria dipped her head under the water to wash the soap off her hair and climbed out of the tub. Zevran followed and wrapped a towel around her before he started drying himself off. ‘What do you say, shall we go to Denerim before we continue to the Tower? I think Alistair should learn what happened in Amaranthine from me.’

‘I agree. And don’t start blaming yourself, the city was lost.’

‘I thought I had left you to die. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you are safe.’

Zevran smiled. He let his towel fall to the floor and walked up to her. He opened the towel Núria had secured under her arms. ‘I can look after myself,’ he said gently as he cast it aside. His hands travelled from Núria’s sides to her back and from there downwards until he cupped her buttocks. ‘You’re beautiful.’ He lifted her from the floor to carry her to her bed, where he placed her carefully before lying down beside her. His hands roamed over her body, and Núria closed her eyes, enjoying his touch. When his hand moved between her legs, she looked again, to see his face no more than an inch from hers. Closing the distance, she kissed him deeply, relishing in his taste and smell. When her hand found his erection, he gasped into her mouth, moaning with every movement she made.

Núria withdrew slightly and saw disappointment on Zevran’s face. ‘Shhh,’ she made, pushing him on his back. With a mischievous smile she straddled him, but rather than take him inside her, she trapped his hard member between her sex and his belly, sliding along him. Zevran groaned and started grinding against her, willing himself to surrender to her sweet torture, at least for the moment.

‘Núria, my sweet, it has been a while for me,’ he said finally, placing his hands on her hips to still her. ‘Give me a second to breathe.’

Núria smiled at him and leaned down to catch his lips in a slow, sultry kiss. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and curled around his as she lifted her hips slightly to let him calm down a little. ‘I never answered you down in the village.’ Her voice was rough and slightly needy. ‘I love you too, Zev. And I thank you for staying. You will never regret it, I promise.’

Zevran sucked her earlobe into his mouth. ‘I missed you.’ He reached down between them to position himself. ‘And … not only this, all we had. All we _have_ , I should say.’ Slowly, he pushed upwards and into her waiting body. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she let out a soft moan. His hands were still on her hips and he held her in place as he moved in her, setting a slow and steady rhythm. Núria’s hands wandered to his, and she pried them gently from her, interlacing her fingers with his as she sat up on him, moving back and forth. Zevran’s gaze wandered over her body to where they were joined, and he moaned loudly as she rode him. His eyes turned back into his skull at her intense lovemaking, and for a moment he had to fight for control again. He tugged at her hands and pulled her closer, kissing her wildly. His arms wound around her, and he turned them both over. ‘No more torture,’ he whispered in between kisses and started moving more quickly. Núria’s legs wrapped around his hips, pushing him deeper. Her eyes were closed again, and Zevran marvelled at how wonderful she looked with her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly parted.

Words of endearment bubbled from Núria’s mouth as Zevran moved inside her, and even in the throes of passion she meant every bit of it. She heard him chuckle and looked at him, at his hair clinging to his forehead in wet strands, and at the sweet smile on his face as their eyes met. He gave her a fevered and slightly erratic kiss as he hooked both his arms under her shoulders, pounding into her in quick, hard thrusts. Núria felt the familiar heat build below her navel and clutched to him like a drowning person when her release crashed over her in a tidal wave. When her thoughts trickled into focus again, she felt Zevran’s rhythm lose some of its regularity, and he stifled a moan against her shoulder as he spilled his seed inside her.

For a couple of breaths they remained like that, then Zevran withdrew slowly to lie beside Núria. He draped his left arm lazily across her, fondling her waist with his fingers. ‘I should talk to Justice,’ Núria mumbled. ‘I’ve got to tell the wardens that I’m leaving.’

‘Surely that can wait until tomorrow,’ Zevran whispered. ‘You just came back from that Mother, everyone will understand you need rest. And I am not quite willing to let go of you just yet.’

Núria turned onto her side, facing Zevran. ‘I’ll blame you, then, if they ask me why I didn’t come earlier.’

Zevran laughed softly. ‘Do that.’

Núria’s hand tangled in his hair, caressing his scalp. ‘You’re striped.’

‘That’ll pass. It’s paler already, I was quite a bit more red right after dyeing it. What do you prefer?’

‘I prefer you. Even if you paint your face like that.’

‘That will pass, too.’ Zevran kissed Núria’s forehead. ‘I had to disguise myself.’

Núria snuggled against Zevran’s chest and closed her eyes. ‘I wish you could live in peace.’

She heard him answer, but perhaps she was imagining this in her half-asleep state. ‘I already do, my love.’

 

 


	15. If You Poison Us, Do We Not Die?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Quote from Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice, obviously.))

Núria hadn’t allowed herself much time for farewells. Sigrun had hugged her around the middle when she told her she was going away with Anders, and she almost felt bad for leaving the wardens behind. She put Justice in charge, since he now had access to most of Kristoff’s memories. For the unlikely case he didn’t know what to do, she had advised him to seek Oghren’s counsel, explaining that even though the dwarf could be a pain, he was certainly a very able warrior.

On the way to Denerim, Núria could feel some tension between Zevran and Anders, and she couldn’t blame them. She remembered how Zevran had said he had to get the image of her and the mage out of his head and wondered vaguely if he ever would. But when he was with her, he was as sweet and gentle as he had been before he had left her, perhaps even more so, and after a few days only she was as relaxed in his vicinity as she had always been.

‘What do you think Alistair will say?’ Zevran asked her one evening as they were eating, seated around their fire. ‘I’m asking because I think you should be prepared for a bad reaction.’

‘You’ll go with me when I’ll see him, won’t you?’ Núria asked in reply. ‘I mean … If he doesn’t understand I’ll need you there.’

Zevran draped an arm around her shoulders. ‘I have been in the deep roads with you, in the lair of werewolves, and I should have fought at your side against this most recent threat, as well. What is our King Alistair in comparison to all that?’

‘Um … Are you planning to tell him where you’re heading and why?’ Anders asked carefully.

‘I’ve been wondering that,’ Núria replied. ‘He took my decision to conscript you in stride, but Jowan is a different matter. He killed a woman he knew, even if he never liked her. He was furious with me for that. But on the other hand … I’ll have to make my point clear to Greagoir. And if I could win Alistair for our cause …’

‘Why can we not just take Jowan and Aisling and bolt? Run off with them and explain later?’

Núria shook her head. ‘Let us not forget that the templars are a powerful and highly influential order. I wouldn’t want to push things. I want Wynne there because I hope to the Maker that she trusts my judgement enough. I think Alistair does, too. I hope to have Wynne for persuading Irving and Alistair for Greagoir.’

‘I cannot see the templars allowing this.’

‘So far we know only of two templars and some … three mages, apart from yourself, that need to know anything,’ Zevran mused. ‘Why go telling everyone? Say Jowan had an accident and is dead.’

‘The Tranquil don’t normally have accidents,’ Anders told Zevran.

The Antivan shrugged. ‘Apprentices do. Perhaps you can find one that would choose to be made Tranquil and would take the blame?’

‘Hmm. We should keep this in mind. I only hope Aisling didn’t use blood magic to find her solution. That would make things very difficult.’ He looked at Núria. ‘You know, I’m not so sure if I like the idea of going to the Tower.’

Núria smiled. ‘I thought you’d protest sooner. But what if I need you? What if Aisling does? In one of her letters she sounded a lot as though she had planned you in.’

‘I know,’ Anders said with a pained expression.

‘We won’t feed you to the tigers, don’t worry,’ Zevran said. ‘Imagine what we’re doing. We’re trying to reverse their punishment on a known blood mage. We, the Warden Commander, an Antivan assassin, perhaps another templar and a senior enchanter. Keeping you there will be the least of their problems.’

Anders sighed and dedicated himself to his food in silence.

Ϡ

Núria walked through Denerim with considerable apprehension. She supposed news of who exactly had given the order to burn Amaranthine would most certainly have reached the capital by now, and few would take to this news kindly. She was known all over town since the fall of the archdemon, and no matter how much people had respected her for that, chances were that they would just as fervently hate her now.

As she walked into the Royal Palace flanked by Anders and Zevran, no one stopped her. One of the guards walked away quickly, presumably to inform the king of her arrival, and Núria braced herself for his reaction.

Sure enough, they had barely stepped into the main corridor when a tall human shot out from a doorway on the left to catch her in a fierce hug. ‘Maker, the last I heard was that you had Amaranthine burnt, and then _nothing_! Only rumours that you had defeated the source of the new threat, but they also said you had disappeared and I thought you must be dead.’ Alistair let go of her and eyed her critically. ‘It’s good to see you, by the way.’

‘Am I going to get a hug too?’ Zevran asked with mild amusement.

Alistair turned to look at him. ‘ _You_ ,’ he said with more venom than Núria had thought him capable of. ‘Can I talk with you alone for a moment, Núria?’

‘There is nothing you cannot say with all of us present,’ she said, wondering if she should have expected something like this.

Alistair cleared his throat. ‘Have you forgotten what it was like when Zevran had left? Are you willing to let him … use you like that?’

‘Zev had a reason, and a good one, I might add, to act the way he did.’

Alistair snorted. ‘I bet. So what did you tell her? That you were forced by some higher power? Oh, I know a good line. You know you did wrong, but you will never again …’

‘Enough!’ Núria shouted. ‘Are you jealous, or what do you think you’re doing?’

Alistair blinked and turned his gaze slowly on her. ‘Am I … No!’ He looked scandalised. ‘You’re … I never …’ He faltered. ‘Look … You are the sister I looked for here. And I do not wish you to get hurt.’

‘And I will not do that, Alistair,’ Zevran said calmly. ‘Do you trust Núria’s judgement? If so, you will have to trust me.’

Alistair took in a deep breath, then he nodded. ‘Very well, I will do my best. What … brings you here?’

Núria sighed. ‘Amaranthine, to tell the truth. I hoped you’d hear from me.’

Alistair gave a humourless laugh. ‘Fat chance, after such a long time. Come on, let’s talk in the common room.’ The king led the way to the large and cosy room, and Anders let out a soft whistle. ‘Don’t look so scared, Núria, I know you well enough by now to … to trust that you did what you had to do,’ Alistair said as he watched her looking at the floor. ‘Remember Duncan? We’re not here to make ourselves popular.’

‘I was there,’ Zevran said. ‘I was trying to help the city guards, but there was no chance to save Amaranthine. We had already lost when Núria came.’ Núria took his hand and squeezed it. The thought what might have happened to him still troubled her. ‘I saw the looks the people in the street gave us. You were talking of popularity … I think we have to fear more than being disliked. Those people cheering at the wardens after the defeat of the archdemon will as readily tear you apart now. You, too, Alistair, being a Grey Warden.’

Alistair massaged the bridge of his nose. ‘Anora has held a rather fervent speech about this. She reckons it’s better if she’s the one supporting the wardens’ decision for that very reason. I wouldn’t be all too credible, she said, and for once I agree with her. Maker, this is difficult. I wish I could … I don’t know, get away for just a little while.’

Núria grinned and nudged his ribs. ‘How about coming to the Circle Tower with me? I need someone to talk sense into Greagoir.’

‘That doesn’t sound good,’ Alistair said with a sideways glance at Anders.

The mage raised his hands in a defensive gesture at once. ‘Don’t look at me that way, I have nothing to do with it. Or … not much.’

‘Remember Jowan?’ Núria asked. ‘I want him. To join the Grey.’ Alistair stared at her. ‘No, listen first. He seemed to regret, didn’t he? And he wanted to help. I say, let him.’

‘You are fond of your apostates, aren’t you?’ Alistair asked, and Zevran snorted. Núria gave him a playful whack and smiled at him. ‘What?’ Alistair made, and Zevran started shaking with laughter while Anders went crimson.

‘Oh, never mind them,’ Núria said, feeling her cheeks go hot. ‘I am not … fond of them, or Jowan, for that matter, I simply think he deserves a chance. The templars made him Tranquil, Alistair.’

The king took a deep breath and only released it after a few seconds. ‘Oh.’

‘A question, and I beg you for an honest, non-evasive answer: Do you know how a mage is made Tranquil, and do you know of a way to reverse this?’

Alistair laughed softly. ‘I’m getting a feeling that this is the real reason why you came. I have never witnessed the Rite of Tranquility, but I know in theory how it works. The mage is … tied down, because the process is rather painful. Also, they’re offered or force-fed magebane. That’s a potion that stops mages from using spells for a time. It’s important to do this, because the pain might cause them to do great harm despite their better intentions.

‘I’ve never heard that someone died during the ritual, but it must be terrible to behold. Another recruit, a less impertinent one that I was, for sure, once helped in it, and he told me in secret that he hoped he would never have to see this again.

‘When the magebane is operating, the templars give them a sleeping potion.’

‘You mean a poison,’ Zevran interjected.

‘You could call it that. Anyway, when the mage is drained of power and sleeping, the … the templar leading the ritual puts a bit of lyrium in their mouth and onto their eyes. Not the raw ore, that would kill a mage, but not as you get it in potions either. Ever tried swallowing live coal? That should give you an impression.’

‘I remember when I was a very young child, one of my fellows stole a sovereign from a master,’ Zevran said softly. ‘They said he had greedy eyes and burned them with a glowing poker. The rest of us had to watch to stop us from trying the same. He died within the hour.’

‘The difference being that lyrium does nothing to your body,’ Alistair said. ‘No reaction to it is physical. Even the fact that its raw form kills a mage is nothing physical. But their mind’s reaction to it is so violent that they die. I have no idea what exactly … happens to a mage during this ritual, but afterwards, they cannot dream any more, and lose all their magic as well as their emotions, as you know. I don’t know if this can be reversed but my guess is that the process would be equally painful. The question is if you really want to subject anyone to this kind of torture twice.’

‘I can only speak for myself, but there isn’t much I wouldn’t allow to be done to me before I am like … that,’ Anders said firmly. ‘And I know Jowan. He’s not a bad person. If you don’t try and put chains on him, he’s as dangerous as your average puppy.’

‘Said one apostate about another,’ Alistair muttered.

‘According to another mage, there is a way to return their powers to a Tranquil,’ Núria said quickly, trying to stop a quarrel from arising. ‘There are only a few problems: I need to convince someone of consequence to actually do it. I need Irving behind me, but my guess is that won’t be the hard bit. The problem will be Greagoir. That is where you come in.’

Alistair paled. ‘You want me to tell Greagoir to let a known blood mage be … made a mage again?’

‘You aren’t a templar, you are a Grey Warden,’ Zevran reminded him. ‘That is your uppermost duty.’

‘That’s rich, an assassin tells me of my duty.’

‘I’ll repeat it for you, as your commander, if I must,’ Núria said. ‘For that I am, despite you being king. Alistair, I should have conscripted Jowan when Teagan refused to let him go. I’m doing it now. If I have to engage Greagoir in a duel, I will. The question isn’t _if_ I will get what I want, it’s how smoothly and with how little strife I will get it. I asked Wynne to come, too. Please, Alistair. You said I’m your sister. If I am, help me.’

‘That’s not fair. I … I cannot decide this at once. Be my guests until I make up my mind. But … I need to sleep on this. Is that all right?’

Núria nodded. ‘Of course. Just don’t take too long, or I must go without you.’

Ϡ

Later in the evening, they were all three served a fabulous dinner, brought on silver plates by servants. One of them cast Núria a murderous glance at first, but then she was perfectly polite. Núria ate with gusto, but the wine and the rich food made her sleepy soon. Alistair managed to take her aside for a moment. ‘So … A room for one or for two?’

‘Two, of course.’ Alistair frowned slightly. ‘Look, I’m going to say this one time only, so listen closely: I love him. Get used to it.’

‘It’s not your dedication I’m worried about.’

‘Here’s an idea. If you come with us, you’ll have time to watch him. You’ll see that he cares. He does, as much as I do.’ For a moment she felt slightly dizzy and put a hand against the wall. ‘I’m really tired, Alistair, can I go?’

He looked slightly alarmed. ‘Zevran!’ The elf was with them in an instant. ‘Perhaps you should bring Núria to her room.’

Zevran frowned at her. ‘You look pale. How much wine did you drink?’

‘Not that much. I’m just not used to it. You can stay here for a while longer, Zev. Alistair, I have the same room as last time?’

‘Yes. Are you sure you …’

Núria waved them both away and headed towards her room. ‘I’m fine.’

She hadn’t been there for long when the door opened. ‘Are you all right, my love?’ Zevran asked from the doorway. She had lain down, propped up on a pillow, the correspondence between Anders and Aisling on the other side of the bed. She waved at Zevran with one hand. At least she wanted to. Her arm jerked slightly more than she had planned, and the letter she had been holding sailed to the floor. ‘Darn. Don’t worry so much.’

Zevran blinked at her, his expression cold and detached. ‘Stand up.’

‘Look, I’m still feeling light-headed, I’d rather not … Hey!’ Zevran had walked up to her and pulled her into a sitting position by her hands.

‘Stand up, now.’ Núria obeyed. She stood quite well. ‘Close your eyes, stretch your arms to your sides and stand on one leg.’

Núria laughed. ‘This is ridiculous. I don’t know, perhaps this wine was stronger than …’

‘I’m begging you, Núria,’ Zevran said urgently. His eyes were narrow and still so stony.

She blinked and did as he said. At least she tried. She could stand all right, but a tremor started in her fingers, running up her arms. Zevran bit his lower lip. ‘Wait here. I’ll lock you in. Don’t let anyone in.’ With that, he strode off.

Núria dropped back onto the bed and did her best not to get scared.

How long he was gone, she had no idea. Suddenly he crashed through the door again, followed by Alistair who was white as a sheet. Hurried footsteps announced Anders, who barged in with a tightly woven wicker basket. Zevran knelt before her. ‘Tell me what we had for dinner.’

‘Dack,’ Núria replied, with all certainty she could muster.

Alistair went from white to green. ‘Zevran …’

The assassin closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the void expression was gone, replaced by fear and anger. ‘If you cannot keep silent for a minute I’ll throw you out of this room.’ His hands took Núria’s into his. ‘Listen … Do you understand me?’

‘I haven’t thought be of all that noise,’ she said with conviction, and Zevran sighed.

‘Last chance,’ he said. ‘Repeat what I say. Just … repeat what you hear, my love … Um … Basket.’

Núria’s heart was racing. She had to concentrate to understand what she heard and was close to panicking. ‘Beckett.’ She had no idea what this was about.

Zevran swore softly in Antivan. ‘Alistair, I need water in raw amounts. Show me where medicine is stored in your castle. I need castor oil and charcoal.’

‘What?’

Zevran scrambled to his feet and grabbed the templar by his shoulder. ‘Just this once, trust me.’ Alistair swallowed and nodded. ‘Anders … you do as I told you.’


	16. Pale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Another Within Temptation title ;) ))

Anders stepped up to Núria with considerable caution. ‘Look, I apologise for this, but I have to do it.’ He placed his right hand on her stomach, and for a moment Núria thought he had an ulterior motive. Then a jolt went through her body and her stomach turned. Anders held the bucket under her face in time. With a quick spell, he emptied it. ‘Should I put you to sleep? Would you prefer that?’ Núria stared at him, processing his words slowly. ‘You want to sleep?’ Anders tried again.

‘I wish I know they could not,’ she said hastily.

Anders cringed. ‘Just … nod or shake your head, will you?’ Núria blinked. ‘Do not try and talk, it won’t work … Oh dear. Just … show me. Do you wish to sleep? No talking.’ He put a finger on her lips and Núria shook her head. ‘Very well. Oh Maker.’

Pain coursed through Núria’s body, and she felt clearly how she lost control of every muscle. Anders caught her as she slipped to the floor and laid her down on her bed with more strength than she thought he had.

He took her hand in his and squeezed it. Her mind started to drift off, but a soft touch of magic kept her awake. ‘I cannot let you pass out, but you could _sleep_ , my friend.’ His words were drowned in the pain of the cramps. She noticed the door opening and someone approaching, but even though her eyes were open and she saw everything, nothing of it reached her. She felt like a fox in a trap that would snap at anyone who might try to free it and concentrated firmly on not doing exactly that.

Zevran had enough experience to know what she would be able to do in her state. ‘Alistair, hold her,’ he said firmly, and the templar did as he was told. Quickly, Zevran stripped Núria to her small clothes, making sure there was no weapon in her reach. They had brought two buckets, one of them full of water, a bottle of oil and a small basket with charcoal, and a mortar and pestle.

‘Are you going to tell me what you’re doing?’ Alistair asked when she slowly stopped fighting as she was gripped by another surge of cramps.

‘There is no real antidote to this,’ Zevran said quickly. ‘All we can do is … wash it out of her system. Her body will try that in no time, and the castor oil well accelerate the process. The charcoal will hopefully absorb enough on its way to save her.’

Alistair looked at his helpless friend. ‘Hopefully?’

Zevran nodded. ‘I can promise nothing.’

‘Should I try and do something?’ Anders suggested.

‘You can take away her pain, but you cannot stop the poison from destroying her,’ the Antivan said. ‘Alistair, do you have an herb garden with brocade bloom? If so, instruct someone in the kit… No. Anders, would you make her a tea of it if you can find it?’

‘Certainly,’ the mage said and got to his feet.

‘Later. For now I need you here. Núria, my love, do you hear me?’ Slowly, she nodded. ‘Anders, I need the charcoal ground. Put it in a glass and fill it with the oil. Mix it as good as you can. Núria … this will taste horrible, but you have to drink all of it.’ Again, she nodded. She heard the unpleasant sound of charcoal being ground to a powder near her and tried to make sense of it. Zevran held her hand, talking soothingly and keeping a very close eye on her in case she passed out. When the sounds ceased, he suddenly had a glass of a disgusting looking solution in his hand and tipped it down her throat. Slowly, very slowly, she forced the substance down. ‘Anders … She needs to keep this. See that she does, by all means.’

Anders placed his hand on her stomach again, and Núria felt as though something had closed inside her. ‘She can’t swallow until I undo this,’ he informed Zevran, ‘but she can’t throw up either.’

The Antivan nodded. ‘Good. Go and make that tea, and while you’re at it, pray that this isn’t too late. Even if it doesn’t help, it can’t harm her either.’

‘Zev … can you tell me what exactly is happening here?’ Alistair asked in a dejected voice.

Zevran sighed. He climbed onto the bed and sat on it behind Núria’s back. He pulled her to his chest and leaned against the wall behind it. ‘She has been given lanthrax. It’s a poison that has to be ingested, so someone must have messed with her plate. It’s fat-soluble, so our chances with the oil aren’t that bad.’

‘What does it do?’ Alistair asked, pulling a chair to the bed and sitting down next to Núria.

‘That depends. Our Núria is a strong woman, so we have more time. The first symptom is dizziness and pallor. The second tremor. The third aphasia.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘That she couldn’t talk right. This is the first symptom that helps to predict the outcome of counter-measures. She couldn’t talk well, but with some imagination you could work out what she was trying to say. And she understood when we talked slowly enough and not in a complicated way. I’ve seen one man who repeated one syllable over and over again, unable to do anything else. So her speech is not a reason to be worried, quite the contrary.’

‘Easy for you to say.’

Zevran rewarded him with a piercing glare. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

Alistair shook his head. ‘Only that … for me it was the most frightening thing I’ve ever seen. What happens next?’

‘Normally, she’d throw up. I ordered Anders to empty her stomach, but in that stage, if it were strong, she wouldn’t stop until her throat would be burned. Next stage is diarrhoea. The next and the second longest are seizures and they can start earlier, even before the aphasia. She’s had two now and will probably not understand a word we’re saying any more. If she passes out …’ Zevran bit his lip. He didn’t need to finish the sentence. ‘The last stage before death is a blackout,’ he finished the thought all the same, wrapping his arms around Núria from behind her and forcing his breath to remain even.

When Anders returned with a steaming cup, Zevran retreated from the bed. ‘I want you to put her to sleep now,’ Zevran said. ‘Can you make her drink safely without being awake?’

‘Of course.’

‘Good. Then let us spare her the pain of recovery. When the effects of the castor oil abate you can give it to her, and then water. Until then … you two should leave us.’

Ϡ

‘We’ll find them and have them hanged, don’t worry.’

‘I am not sure if this is wise, Alistair. I suppose there are a number of people who would feel with them. Not that I think the person in question should be allowed to live.’

‘I volunteer to kill her. Very willingly.’

‘Her?’

‘Poisoners are often women. No offence, your majesty.’

‘Shut up, she’s awake.’

Núria felt a gentle hand on her cheek and opened her eyes. ‘Welcome among the living, my love. I had Anders put you to sleep to spare you some … unpleasantness.’

Núria’s throat felt dry and she tasted bile. ‘Will you explain to me what exactly happened to me?’ she asked voicelessly. She tried clearing her throat but it didn’t help.

‘You were poisoned, as I am sure you remember,’ Zevran said. ‘We do not know who did it, but it must have been either someone in the kitchens or a servant.’

Núria scrambled to a sitting position to find Anora and Alistair standing at the end of her bed. ‘Welcome to Denerim,’ the queen said. ‘I apologise for what happened to you and I assure you the culprit will be brought to justice.’

‘So … why am I not dead, if it was so bad?’

‘Because Zevran here is a genius,’ Alistair said.

‘There was more luck involved than ingenuity,’ Zevran answered. ‘Do you remember I had you tell me things?’ Núria nodded. ‘You didn’t realise that you were talking nonsense, did you? Now there aren’t many poisons that do that. The trouble is, all you can do against it is help the body do what it naturally tries: Get the stuff out and hope the dose wasn’t too high.’

‘How lucky I am to have a master poisoner by my side. Zev … I’m not talking nonsense now, am I?’

Zevran smiled. ‘No, no you’re not. Take a few days rest and you will be fine. You will not have much appetite for a while, but that is all. Maker, you scared me.’

Ϡ

It took only a few days to find the servant who had added the poison to Núria’s food. Zevran had told her that the substance was extremely rare, and Núria began to suspect that perhaps the serving girl wasn’t the only responsible person. When she heard that the woman who had done the actual poisoning was about to be punished for what she had done the next day, she decided to talk to Anora. She felt certain that the queen was more likely to listen than Alistair.

A guard was before the private rooms of the queen, and Núria asked him to let her talk to her. The man knocked her door three times, and after a few moments Anora’s voice allowed him entrance. After a short muffled exchanged the guard came back and told Núria she could enter. ‘I see you are feeling better,’ the queen greeted her. ‘Is there anything you require?’

‘No, thank you,’ Núria said. ‘This is about the poison. Zevran says it’s very rare, and I wonder how a servant could lay hands on it.’

Anora frowned slightly. ‘You think she was hired? Hmm. She came to us not so long ago. She claimed to be from Highever, but if my majordomo didn’t verify this … Oh dear, this could mean trouble.’ She looked at Núria. ‘See here, I do not wish to be unsympathetic, but this makes things … difficult. Do you have a reason to assume there might be more behind this?’

‘I was attacked by assassins in Vigil’s Keep. Bann Esmerelle was the leader of a conspiracy against me and came to see for herself that I was killed.’

‘And there’s rarely a conspiracy with only one person in it. Which means killing this so-and-so would bring us nowhere.’ She rose. ‘I will speak to her. I would recommend to promise her some mitigation if she cooperates, and we would of course have to keep that promise. But if you do not wish this, I understand that.’

Núria smiled vaguely. ‘I would like to talk to her myself. And I come from the dregs of this city, so I know how desperate people can get. If she was blackmailed, she deserves mitigation.’

‘Very well,’ said Anora, walking purposefully to her door. ‘But I will go with you. This is my palace she has been trying to kill you in, and that is something that oversteps the bounds of my tolerance by far.’

Núria followed Anora to a small side corridor.

‘I decided to keep her up here rather than in the dungeons,’ the queen explained. ‘I had a feeling that it would be wiser not to make this public, and the easiest way is to let as few people know as is at all possible. Open the door.’ The last sentence was directed at the guard beside it, and he obeyed at once.

The room the servant was in was sparse, but it didn’t look like a prison. Despite the practical reasons Anora had to keep her up here, this might make things easier. ‘Who are you?’ Núria asked.

The woman before her was an elf, and she hoped this might help, too. ‘Veath,’ the servant replied with a glare.

‘Are you from the City of Amaranthine?

Veath’s lips tightened. ‘I’m not telling you. But you destroyed a great city and you stripped my family of their lands. And you had my Lady murdered.’

Núria blinked at her.

‘You’re not very bright, are you?’ Anora asked the serving girl with a slight frown.

‘Oh,’ Núria made. ‘You were a servant of the Packton family, weren’t you?’ Veath looked pointedly away. ‘First: Your Lady tried to have _me_ murdered. Second, I didn’t strip her of anything. She never owned the lands in question.’ Núria looked at Anora. ‘Howe promised her land, land that belonged to another noble.’

Anora sighed. ‘So even out of his very grave the man is nothing but trouble. What do you wish to do with _her_?’ She indicated Veath with a condescending gesture of her hand.

‘One year in prison, but I want her to live to see the end of it.’

Anora nodded. ‘I am not Howe,’ she said. ‘And _you_ are very lucky that it wasn’t I you poisoned. Who gave you the stuff, and what exactly was it, by the way?’

‘I’m not saying.’

‘Do you really wish to die for a family you don’t even serve any longer?’ Núria asked her.

‘After a year I’ll be thrown onto the streets, and I’ll only survive if I steal or beg. I guess dying now isn’t that much worse.’

‘You can go to an alienage. I do not recommend the one here, though, my cousin is the bann and she won’t love you for trying to get me killed.’ She made a step closer. ‘If you’re hoping to become a martyr for those who mourn Amaranthine, forget it. You’ll die by the hands of a rather angry assassin. No one will know, not even your family, until quite some time will have passed. Oh, the substance she used is called Lanthrax. Pretty rare.’

‘How do you know?’ Veath asked.

Núria smiled grimly. ‘Because you tried to kill the wrong person. Now … This is the last time I’m going to ask you this. Who gave you the poison?’ Veath bit her lower lip but was silent. ‘Very well. Let Zevran have her. Poor thing.’

Anora raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything as they turned to leave. ‘Lady Anne,’ Veath said quickly. ‘Lady Liza’s daughter.’

Núria smiled. ‘Thanks a million.’

‘Get her into prison,’ Anora instructed the guard. ‘She is to be kept there for a year.’ She glanced at Núria. ‘So, the rumours are true. Your friend is an assassin.’

Núria grinned. ‘Most rumours contain some truth.’

‘How do you know you can trust him?’

‘He saved my life. More than once. Funny, he was hired to kill me. By your father, no less.’

Anora’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead. ‘You certainly have an interesting way of dealing with people who attack you.’

‘I’ll remind him if he should disapprove of my decision to let her live.’

‘I can only repeat myself,’ Anora said. ‘She’s lucky that she didn’t try to get me killed.’

‘What will happen now?’ Núria asked her when they reached the queen’s rooms again. ‘I mean, about what she said.’

‘Well, I will send a few people to get their hands on Lady Anne Packton, and she will be escorted here. If I manage to get a few of her co-conspirators’ names out of her, they’ll end up in prison. If we can get enough evidence or this little slut’s word in a trial, she will be executed, and this time I think we should not do that in secret.’

‘What’s the difference between one potential martyr and another?’ Núria asked.

‘The difference is that we need not fear people to conspire against you. We _know_ they’re already doing that. And we have to show that this is not going to be tolerated. My husband is a Grey Warden, too, and if the people start to gang up against their king … I cannot let this happen. Oh, and I wanted to thank you, if belatedly. The idea to marry Alistair was not at all bad.’

Núria raised her eyebrows, but the queen returned into her room with an innocent smile.

Ϡ

‘Do you think this was a good idea?’ Zevran asked when Núria told him of her talk with Veath. His hands were on her hips as they stood in their room, just about to walk down for dinner.

‘I think where we’re going now, no conspiracy will reach me so easily. The Circle Tower has nothing to do with nobles, and if we go to Orzammar after we’re done there … the dwarves won’t be interested in helping surfacers to murder a warden.’

‘Hmm,’ Zevran made. ‘I … I must admit that I _want_ to kill this woman. I really do. If she had succeeded …’ His arms were around her and he held her in a tight embrace.

‘She hasn’t, Zev, thanks to you,’ Núria said, leaning her head against his chest. It felt good to have him back, to know that whatever happened he would be there.

‘I think we should leave soon,’ he said softly, stroking her head. ‘For safety.’

‘Tomorrow. In the morning. We have to visit Shianni first, though.’

Zevran placed a chaste kiss on Núria’s forehead. ‘Of course, _mi amora_. Now let’s go before I change my mind about what I want for dinner.’

This time Zevran didn’t have to watch the cooks, for Anora had detached the cup-bearer there with the warning to feed him whatever poison reached the table. The majordomo, she announced at her and Zevran’s arrival, was under supervision of one of her personal guards for the next few months.

When they had finished eating, Alistair approached them. He cleared his throat. ‘I’ve thought about what you asked of me. Regarding Greagoir. So I suggest this: I go with you, but I will ask him everything about that mage. I have to hear the other side of the story. And when we’ve heard that, we can talk about it calmly.’

‘Will you listen to Anders as much as him?’ Núria asked, and Alistair sighed.

‘You know … so far you’ve been right about people,’ he said with a glance at Zevran. ‘I will listen to _you_.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Did anyone catch the wordplay with the brocade bloom? In other words, are there linguists, neurologists, or psychologists around? If so: Yes, it's the wrong aphasia, I know, but I couldn't come up with a masterstroke like this for the real name.  
> Oh, and if ever you find yourselves poisoned, don’t try this kind of therapy.))


	17. Cavalry

Núria barely managed to enjoy her time in the alienage. Her thoughts were constantly on the task she had set herself. Up until recently it had always been something to do in the future, but now this future was turning into _soon_ and then _now_ , and she had no idea how to argue her point or what to do if either Greagoir or Irving should absolutely refuse her. The last night before they would set out for the Circle Tower she sneaked out into the fresh air to get her thoughts ordered. Otherwise she wouldn’t be able to sleep.

Resting her forehead against the _vhenadahl_ , the huge tree in the centre, she tried to calm the current of worries in her head. She had always sought its shadow on hot summer days, and she and Shianni had sometimes met here at night to talk about whatever troubled their minds.

She never heard anyone approach, but then she felt steel against her throat and froze.

‘So what if someone would sneak up on you and end your life with just a small quirk of his hand?’

Núria let out the breath she’d held. ‘So far you’re the only person sneaking up on me. And you’re as likely to kill me as Shianni.’ She turned, knowing that the knife’s sharp side was not the one on her skin.

Zevran’s face was serious. ‘You have to be more careful. You do not know where your enemies are, my love. How do you think I would feel if I found you dead in the morning?’

She blinked at him. ‘I … Zev, this is the alienage.’

‘A place where the poorest of all people live. I wonder, do all of them bear you the same love as Shianni? Or would it not be possible that a father would hurt you if he were paid so he can feed his children?’ Zevran put his knife away and took her face carefully into his hands. ‘I laid my heart open to you here once. I have to do that again, it seems: I couldn’t bear to lose you. That would … do things to me I’d rather not consider.’

‘I have a bodyguard, so whatever should befall me? Did you hear me walk out?’

‘I heard you being restless before you left. What is it, my love? Can I help, or …’ He faltered and looked into her eyes.

Núria almost lost herself in his gaze. She saw concern there, but most of all she saw the gentle love that mirrored her own feelings. ‘What if they refuse my request? Or what if this is a mistake? I cannot do anything right anymore.’

She averted her eyes, but Zevran guided her face up by her chin. ‘What do you mean? You did nothing wrong.’

‘I burned Amaranthine when I should have tried to save it,’ Núria whispered, wrenching herself out of Zevran’s arms. She turned her back on him and hugged herself. ‘I let the Architect escape. I nearly betrayed you and I put you in jail. I walk around with my thoughts somewhere in the distance, an easy target.’

Zevran sighed. ‘You are a Grey Warden. You decide for the greater good, not for a handful of people. And that means if you have to choose between saving the other wardens or civilians, it is obvious which is the right decision. You are not here to win everyone’s hearts, you are here to keep the world safe.

‘The Architect, from what you told me, is someone you should not forget and remember whenever something strange happens. But he offered help for the moment, and you took it, like anyone sensible would have done. Anders was already injured, and the Dalish mage … would perhaps have turned on you if you had forced a confrontation that might have her sister in the middle. Because she is not you, because her personal interests influence her decisions.

‘And that you sneak out into the night is incautious, but I am here, and nothing happened. And finally … I am here because what happened between us earlier taught me how precious you are to me.’

‘But … What if Anders and I are wrong about Jowan?’ Núria asked, still facing away from Zevran, but when he started laughing, she spun around. ‘This is not a joke!’

Zevran smiled, but he didn’t look amused. ‘What if you had been wrong about me? Do you want to know how I intended to finish my job? I thought of nothing but seducing you and killing you when you would be panting underneath me. I intended to entice all kinds of sounds from you so no one would come looking. And then there I was, walking into your tent with you. But when I thought this would be the moment, you were soft and insecure, and you poured your heart out to me.’ His voice was low but had a hard note to it she rarely heard in him, and his gaze fixed the tree behind Núria. Suddenly his eyes bored into hers and he stepped closer until he was mere inches from her. She looked up at him, wide-eyed but unconcerned. ‘So when I had you in my power, on your belly, unable to see me or to move away, I refrained from carrying out my plan. And when we were together the next time, and you moaned my name, I refrained again, as I did on every one of the many occasions where you and I were scouting alone. Then you were afflicted with this … Dalish curse, and I was scared for you and knew that the oath I had made had been sincere despite myself, that I would not harm you.’ He shook his head. ‘And now here I am, and I would never hurt a hair on your head,’ he breathed, his eyes so soft again. ‘So _have_ you been wrong about me, my love?’

‘Initially, it seems,’ Núria replied hoarsely. ‘I never would have believed this.’

Zevran kissed her warmly to take away any distress his words might have caused her. ‘No. No, you weren’t mistaken for a moment. For even though I didn’t know it then, some part of me deemed you a threat to my assassins’ equanimity as well as too marvellous to kill. Do you not understand? If you had been wrong, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. And the bond that formed between us so soon wasn’t the cover I thought it was but a real thing.’ Slowly, she nodded. Zevran’s fingers brushed her cheek in a soft touch. ‘If you say Jowan deserves a second chance, he does. Even Alistair can see this, or he wouldn’t be here. And I … I have to know. Believe us.’

Ϡ

On the journey to the Circle Tower, Núria’s conviction that this was the right thing to do grew. When they finally left the boat that had transported them to the docks, she strode up to the huge door as confidently as she had always been. Unlike the first time, the entrance hall was empty but for two templars guarding the door. ‘I have to speak to Irving, Greagoir, and a mage named Aisling. And Wynne, if she’s here.’ Her voice was firm as she spoke.

The guard looked at her. ‘And who would you be?’

‘How about the person who is the only reason why Ferelden is not a wreck?’ Zevran asked.

‘She’s the Warden-Commander,’ Alistair said more calmly. ‘So, is Wynne here?’

‘She arrived yesterday,’ the templar said. ‘She’s in her rooms.’

‘I know where that is,’ Anders said quickly. ‘No need to rely on this one.’

‘Hang on, I know _you_ ,’ the templar said quickly.

‘If you do not wish to get to know me, you leave your sword where it is,’ Núria informed him. ‘Good day to you.’

Anders led them to the second floor, where the Senior Enchanters had their rooms. ‘Wynne?!’ he shouted as soon as they were a few steps into the corridor. ‘Wynne, it’s Anders, I’ve come to usurp the Circle Tower!’

The face of the white-haired mage appeared behind a shelf, and she smiled. ‘I am astounded that you come here without at least five templars tailing you.’

‘Ah, you know how our Warden gets,’ Zevran said lightly. ‘Scaring templars is one of her favourite pastimes.’

Wynne frowned at him. ‘I did not think that I would see you again. Oh, and hello Alistair, or should I say Your Majesty? Now … I am confused. Tell me if I should be worried rather than that.’

Alistair looked pointedly at Núria.

‘Coward,’ Zevran muttered.

‘Look, you remember Jowan?’

Wynne closed her eyes. ‘Oh dear. I thought you were here before you went to Amaranthine … You will not like …’

‘We know he has been made Tranquil,’ Anders said quickly. ‘Perhaps give her the letters, that’s the best explanation there is.’

Núria nodded and produced the pack of letters from a bag. Wynne took them with a sceptical look on her face and started skimming through them. The look on her face changed from interested to mildly confused and from there to horrified. ‘Even if that would work, Greagoir would never allow it.’

‘Leave Greagoir to me,’ Alistair said. ‘I’ve thought about it. There are a thousand things he could say against this, but in the end it always comes down to the fact that he cannot forbid the conscription. And as you will remember, I have a little say in such things, too.’

‘There has always been only one mage among the wardens,’ Wynne said.

‘Oh,’ Núria replied in mock-surprise. ‘Now whom shall I fire, Anders or Velanna?’

‘Dalish,’ Anders said in response to Wynne’s renewed look of confusion. ‘Look … You know as well as I do that even if Jowan can be a blundering idiot, this is not how it should have been.’

Wynne looked at the letters in her hands and sighed. ‘You don’t know what happened here. He destroyed his phylactery, he attacked a few templars including Greagoir as well as Irving on his way, and brought Aisling and an initiate into great trouble. Oh, and I cannot see why Aisling is part of this. If it hadn’t been for Irving’s insistence, she would be Tranquil as well.’

‘I tried to destroy my phylactery, too, and I killed three templars in the process,’ Anders said calmly. ‘Did I want to do that? No, but I couldn’t let them take me either.’

‘He poisoned the Arl of Redcliffe and can without much difficulty be found guilty of a demon wreaking havoc there.’

Núria threw her hands in the air. ‘He was bought to poison Eamon. And you didn’t see him save for a moment. All he wanted was to be free, and Loghain promised him that. He also convinced him that Eamon was a traitor. Loghain knew how to win people for his purpose, and I bet you some of them were honourable enough. For all that it’s worth, I understand him.’

‘Wynne, look,’ said Anders. ‘You know why this happened. I’m not saying he’s guiltless, but he doesn’t deserve … that fate.’

Wynne sighed and glanced at the letters again. ‘So what … is the plan?’

‘You come with me to convince Irving of the idea,’ Núria said.

‘I’m not even convinced of it myself.’

‘Alistair talks to Greagoir,’ Núria pressed on, ignoring her. ‘Anders finds Aisling and Jowan and brings them up to the … um.’

‘Harrowing Chamber,’ Anders helped out.

‘That is the next problem,’ Wynne said. ‘He never went through his Harrowing.’

‘When this is over, he will be,’ Anders said. ‘Read the last letter properly. It isn’t so dissimilar, only less arbitrary.’

‘Wynne, I’m begging you,’ Núria said, gazing up at the mage with a pleading look on her face.

She looked for a moment as though she would object, but then she huffed. ‘You are as manipulative as that dog of yours. Very well, let’s talk to Irving.’

Ϡ

When Núria walked purposefully into Irving’s office with an apologetic looking Wynne beside her, she hoped she would indeed help her. Zevran had followed them but decided to wait outside rather than walk into the First Enchanter’s office with them. Although it was probably better if she didn’t assault the poor man with an assassin in tow, she still would have felt better with him there. Irving looked friendly enough, if slightly alarmed, and Núria wondered if he guessed what she wanted. She wouldn’t keep him in suspense. ‘I’ve come here to invoke the right of conscription of Jowan,’ she said by means of a greeting, and Wynne frowned.

Irving’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I would now say I didn’t hear right, but I know I did. You know why this is impossible.’

‘Not entirely, perhaps,’ Wynne said. ‘It looks like two other mages put their heads together and found a way to undo the Rite of Tranquility. Although I am not entirely convinced.’

‘Jowan has committed a number of crimes that would have justified his execution. I asked to let him live, but if I walk up to Greagoir now and tell him to … undo the Rite of Tranquility, he will most certainly believe I have gone mad and act accordingly.’

‘There is no need for you to talk to Greagoir, Alistair is doing that this very moment,’ Núria said, and Irving blanched. ‘He will make it very clear that it is I who insists on this. And insist I will.’

‘But is it even possible?’ Irving asked, his eyes on Wynne.

She shrugged. ‘It might be. The plan isn’t devoid of logic. They want to use lyrium to force Jowan’s spirit into the Fade. There are two options, either he will die, or he will come out of it alive and perhaps with access to his powers as well as his emotions.’

‘And maybe an abomination, because he will be entirely unprepared.’

‘Alistair will be there,’ Núria said. ‘I know he never actually became a templar, but technically he knows what to do when.’

The door crashed open and Greagoir stormed in. He took in the scene before him, found Núria spinning and facing him, her arms crossed and a challenging look on her face, and rounded on her at once. ‘You want to have a murderer taken into the Grey Wardens as a reward for his actions?’ He wasn’t yelling, but it seems that he was making a conscious effort not to.

‘I want someone who realised he did terrible things to be given a chance to regret and repent,’ she replied with ostentatious calm in her voice and posture.

It worked. Greagoir flared up. ‘I will not have it! I will not allow a man like this to walk away with a reward for his actions!’

‘Please, calm yourself, Knight-Commander,’ Irving said. His eyes travelled to Zevran, who had given a snort.

The elf had entered after Alistair, who had followed in Greagoir’s wake. ‘Technically, I’d think you don’t have much of a choice,’ he said with mild amusement.

Greagoir turned around and glared at him. ‘Who do you think you are, elf?’

Núria felt anger surge in her chest. ‘I demand that you be less disrespectful.’

‘And of you I have expected more, Alistair, although perhaps I should have known better,’ Greagoir said, glaring at him.

Wynne cringed. ‘Greagoir. You realise that you are shouting at your King, I believe?’

Greagoir paled.

‘It’s … this is not how I wanted to handle this,’ Alistair muttered. ‘No, don’t apologise, Knight-Commander, I know what we’re asking of you. But let’s face it: Núria is perfectly entitled to conscript whoever she sees fit. And I will allow it.’

‘Do you not understand what the consequences of this will be?’ Greagoir asked loudly. ‘If I allow one Tranquil to be made a real mage again, who will take the punishment seriously?’

‘And here I have always been told Tranquility is not a punishment but a means to ensure people’s safety,’ said Alistair. ‘Look, I see how this might not be desirable, but most mages are made Tranquil because they want it so. There’s only a small number that are forced into it, and even fewer have a Grey Warden behind them.’ He looked at Núria. ‘You should be aware, however, that you might receive letters from friends of people who share Jowan’s fate, asking for you to help them, too. Although that could be helped by not boasting of this. Stopping to shout might be a good idea, too.’

Greagoir stared at Alistair. ‘What you are telling me, basically, is that you only asked pro forma and are going to do what you want anyway.’ Alistair merely shrugged. ‘Very well. Do as you see fit. But if this backfires, I will not bear the consequences. I will have that in writing, with your signature, your Majesty. Otherwise I must insist that this cannot be allowed.’

‘Let it be on my head, then,’ said Alistair, looking very much relieved.


	18. Quietus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Quietus is a song by Epica, but in the first place it is the Latin word for ‘quiet’ and thus more or less synonymous to ‘Tranquil’.))

Without so much as a warning dawn, the blackness of night changed into a very bright day. It was not warm, though. Rather the contrary, the light the sun gave was that of deepest winter, when it had not the strength to give warmth to the air but was strong enough to make the white skin of red-haired girls pink and sore.

The surface of Lake Calenhad was hard as glass, yet treacherous, oh so treacherous. You never knew, did you, when it would break. They said you heard it creak in a very special way before it did, but if that sound was so special, how should you recognise it the first time it happened to you?

The light became stranger still, and for those who were there to behold the once-in-a-lifetime event, the source of that weird twilight was obvious. It was nothing of consequence, come to think of it, and yet … ‘They say this is an ill omen,’ a soft, tender, sweet voice said.

‘No,’ another answered, calm and at peace, so peaceful in fact that it hurt. ‘It is only the moon. Sometimes it passes between the sun and the earth. A few leagues away from here, only a small part of the sun will be hidden. And somewhere in … say … Orlais, it’s just another normal day.’ A soft hand came to rest against another, one that was nearly as soft and as little used to hard work. ‘We will never see this again, do not fear it, it is beautiful.’ The second hand squeezed the first lightly.

‘I do not fear it,’ the soft voice replied. ‘I fear what will happen here below. To us.’

‘Today is not for such thoughts. Today is special.’ A chaste kiss on a flat roof, in a place that was out of bounds and could be reached only if someone had carelessly forgotten to lock a certain passage. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity indeed, considering how unlikely it was that both should happen.

Ϡ

‘Hey, kid! Yeah you there!’ The voice of the boy was harsh and angry.

‘What?’ another answered, smaller, defiant. It belonged to a tiny girl. She looked like she was six, but they had said she was nine. She was scared of the older boys, she had said it often enough, but no one had ever caught this one molesting her. Now he was incautious and unaware of a pair of eyes on him, of a frown that turned into a glare, of another, smaller boy’s hands clenching into fists.

‘That templar, did you lick him? Or why would he escort you? Did he lick you, too?’ The fists unclenched and the glare turned into something colder and more dangerous. The girl seemed to have little to no idea what she was being asked, but the onlooker knew, if only just. ‘Or did you let him scr…’

‘Hold your tongue, or …’ the until-now silent audience burst out with no real plan what to say.

The molester turned his attention. He was tall. And powerful. Oh dear … ‘Or what exactly? Or you’ll stammer at me until I give up?’ He turned back at the small girl who was looking up at him, wide eyed, and it dawned on the beholder that this was not the first time he talked to her like that … Maker knew what he might have _done_ to her.

And the anger took control and burst out in a surge of electricity that sent that evil boy flying head first into a wall. The small girl still stood rooted until her saviour landed on his knees before her, his eyes now about an inch below hers. Perhaps then she would not be scared. ‘Did he hurt you?’ She shook her head. ‘Did he threaten to?’ A small nod. ‘Right … We’re going to Irving.’

‘ _No!_ They’ll make me Tranquil if you tell.’

‘Nonsense. If anything, they’ll make him. Would serve him.’

Ϡ

‘Oh, screw it, I just can’t!’ a voice – his voice, he realised suddenly – shouted.

A small giggle answered. ‘Look, you’re doing it wrong.’ A hand was placed on his, the hand of a beautiful girl he loved with all his heart. Some thought they were _lovers_ , but that was nonsense. She was like a sister to him, a mirror image of himself, he liked to think. The hand on his slowed the movements he was making, and after a moment lines formed on the floor, glowing in a soft bluish light. A grin formed on his face.

‘Yes, that’s it, you’re almost there,’ the voice of the girl urged him on, and he tried to focus once more on the spell. Suddenly, blue turned to red and he was knocked to the floor, landing painfully on his backside.

‘Oh, screw it,’ he said again, but he laughed.

‘Try again tomorrow, you’re getting there! Wynne will be ever so pleased with you!’ She helped him to his feet again, and he felt something shift.

‘Aisling …’ he said in a soft voice, and she looked at him in alarm. ‘I need Anders.’

‘Are you hurt? I’ll get you to Wynne and …’

‘ _No!_ No, she’ll laugh her hair off … I think … Aisling, I’ve broken my tailbone.’

Ϡ

He fled. To the chantry, again. To her, to the wonderful voice. He didn’t even hear the words of the chant, but he did hear her voice … so pure, so beautiful. So sweet that he didn’t even remember what he had tried to escape from.

But he ended up here every day … and whenever she was not here, the day was wasted. The templars that thought him a monster didn’t matter, for she certainly wouldn’t judge him because of his lack of talent for healing magic. And suddenly his feet didn’t obey his order to remain motionless, and he walked up to her. His mouth spoke of its own accord, spoke of how beautifully she had said the chant, and he was rewarded by a shy smile. It meant all the world.

Ϡ

His brain was fried. The only thing that still worked were his legs, carrying him _away_. The wind was in his back, which was good because he would be harder to follow. His hand had stopped bleeding, but for all it was worth, he wouldn’t mind if he had bled to death. She was gone … gone to Aeonar, gone from him, had refused to follow. Maker, what had he _done_?

Half of him wanted to turn and surrender. But still he ran. Her face, pale and shocked at what he was, was imprinted on his eyes and he knew the image would never leave him, never in his life. The eyes that had once been full of love had stared at him in pure disgust. And his friend, one of the few he had, had stood panicked herself, but not in fear of him.

He forced Aisling into his vision. She had looked stunned and pained, but she hadn’t hated him. Oh, what would they do to her? Again, he almost turned. With a curse on his lips, however, he kept running. Perhaps if he ran far enough he would never hear what they would do to _her_ because of him. He would not think of Aeonar and what might befall Lily there. Not of what Aisling’s eyes would look like if the templars took her soul away.

Ϡ

‘Jowan? Jowan … _Jowan!_ ’ He blinked away the fogs and opened his eyes slowly. Still, it was as cold as it had been on the tower when they had watched the solar eclipse. ‘Oh, you had me worried …’

He turned his head slowly and found Lily kneeling next to him. ‘What in the name …’ he began.

‘We escaped, don’t you … Oh no, I hope you aren’t hurt badly.’ Lily placed her left hand on his cheek, the touch making him shiver. The other brushed gently through his hair, apparently looking for injuries. They found a growing lump at the back of his head.

‘What … is this place?’ They were in a forest, and there was a large stone structure in the distance.

‘I don’t know, but we’re still near the Imperial Highway. Oh, Jowan, I don’t know how I can ever repay you.’ She sank down to sit beside him, and suddenly her lips were on his, giving him a soft and gentle kiss. His eyes fluttered shut on their own accord at the touch, and when her tongue caressed his lower lip, his mouth opened and he responded, hands grabbing her shoulders as though she might evaporate.

‘Look,’ he said breathlessly when he finally pulled away, ‘I think I got knocked on the head … Where are we, and why are you here in the first place?’

Lily looked concerned. ‘But you know who I am, don’t you?’

He laughed. ‘I certainly do,’ he replied, brushing his thumb over her chin. ‘What … changed your mind? I thought you’d never so much as glance at me again, even if they didn’t take you away.’

Lily looked at her hands. ‘I had a lot of time to think. And when you … You don’t remember how you sneaked into Aeonar to rescue me?’

‘I did what? I couldn’t have, the templars control the place, and there are all sorts of things just wrong about it!’

‘But you did. We’re here, aren’t we?’ Again she leaned forwards to kiss him, but this time he stopped her gently.

‘No, wait. I don’t even know where exactly Aeonar is, except in the north. This makes no sense, no one can ever get in there alone, let alone a known maleficar.’

‘Perhaps the Maker knows you regret your sins and helped you,’ Lily said.

Jowan frowned at her. Slowly he got to his feet. ‘No. I can’t … I remember talking to Aisling in my cell … She said they wouldn’t kill me … She said they would perform the Rite of Tranquility … But then this can’t even be a dream … This really doesn’t make sense. None of it.’

‘You fled before they could harm you,’ Lily explained, rising as well. She took his hands into hers, and his heartbeat stopped for an instant. ‘But I’d rather be on the run with you than miss you one more day.’

Jowan shut his eyes forcefully. ‘No … wait, let me think. If this is _not_ a dream, it must be real, but I remember … I remember … what they did to me … the pain of it. I will never forget.’ His hands wandered to his temples, and his face contorted as he recalled how it had felt to have the lyrium in his mouth and oh, in his eyes, burning him, draining him of all he was. And yet …

‘Jowan, you’re frightening me,’ Lily said softly, and he opened his eyes again.

He took a few steps backwards and collided with a tree-trunk. ‘This is wrong. This cannot be, but I’m in the Fade … and you … you’re _not_ Lily! Are you a demon?’

‘Jowan!’ Lily said scandalised. ‘What are you …’

‘That would make sense,’ he muttered, forcing himself not to listen. ‘A demon of desire. Is that what you are?’

‘Jowan, stop talking like this! Let’s just … just leave, we’ll be so happy if we only just get away.’

‘No,’ Jowan replied firmly, his left arm stretched out before him to stop her from getting any nearer. ‘No, you won’t get me, demon! Whatever do you want from me? Did you find a way to get a Tranquil here? I’ll rather be daft than your slave! Leave me alone!’

The shape before him changed, and instead of his love there was indeed the form most desire demons chose when revealing themselves. He couldn’t stop his tears. Despite everything, he had hoped he was wrong, and now this small, desperate hope had shattered. ‘Not going to get you, am I,’ the demon sighed. ‘But you are wrong. You are not Tranquil. I could never reach a Tranquil, nor would I have any use for one.’

‘I don’t understand. Why am I here then?’

‘My guess would be, you are being used for something by the templars. Perhaps to lure my kind into a trap? It doesn’t matter, it makes you useless. Go away, this is my domain.’ As she finished, the world melted into nothing, and then something pulled at him, a force so powerful it would rip him apart.

Ϡ

Someone was screaming so loudly Jowan thought his ears would split. It took him a few seconds to realise that it was he. His eyes opened, and he saw people looming over him, felt them holding him down, and he forced his mouth to close and stopped flailing. For how long he lay in a pool of sweat, panting, he didn’t know. ‘Can you hear me, boy?’ a calm voice asked.

He blinked. ‘Wynne?’

Someone gave a squeal. That would not be Wynne.

‘Stay, Jowan. You’ve been through an ordeal.’ That was Wynne.

‘What happened?’ another voice asked, and there was Anders, an awed expression on his face. ‘We thought you were having a seizure or something. Did you meet a demon? Aisling said it would be likely.’

‘Leave him alone, you prat,’ Aisling said happily. ‘Let him breathe … Jowan?’

He couldn’t stop himself, he had to sit up. A strong hand supported him as he scrambled up, looking at the small crowd surrounding him. He frowned. He recognised Aisling, Anders, and Wynne at once. There, sitting in a chair with a slightly sceptical look, was Irving. The hand that kept him upright belonged to an elf he didn’t know, almost as close stood a man in mail and an elven woman.

‘You’re the warden,’ Jowan said, more to himself than to her. ‘And you … you’re that templar! What …’ He faltered.

His eyes found Aisling, and she gave him a reassuring smile. ‘The warden’s name is Núria, and she has something to say to you.’

The warden cleared her throat. ‘Let me be very clear, this is not an offer, it’s a fact.’ Her voice was as brisk and bossy as he remembered it, and yet she didn’t sound unkind. ‘You will be a Grey Warden.’

He blinked. ‘Right … I’m still in the Fade.’

The elf behind him snorted. ‘Tranquil for a few moments and you’re back at the plate with half a screw loose. You are most certainly not in the Fade, as a mage you should know that, I’d think.’

Jowan closed his eyes for a moment. ‘You’re … right. So what?’

‘You were made Tranquil, but the Warden-Commander decided to recruit you,’ Irving cut in, rising from his seat. ‘Let me tell you that you have been conscripted and that you cannot evade this. If you flee and are seen, you will be killed at once. You can recover from the process until the early morning. Then you have to leave.’

Jowan turned his gaze on Núria again. ‘Why? Why would you want me?’

‘Would you rather be Tranquil than a warden?’ she asked in reply, raising an eyebrow.

Jowan shook his head fiercely. ‘No! No … please, I’ll not run away! I just wonder … why me?’

‘I should have done that in Redcliffe. It didn’t occur to me then, sadly.’

‘Don’t try and get out of her why she did this,’ the other elf advised him. ‘She does that sort of thing. Believe me, you won’t get an answer, so save the energy.’

Ϡ

When Núria woke Jowan the next morning with a soft knock on his door, he opened almost at once. The templar and Anders were with her, and she was carrying a chalice. ‘We’re hoping to leave in a few hours. You’ll need that time to recover … again. Are you willing to do this, Jowan?’

He nodded. ‘I am. Where will we go?’

‘Nothing much, for the moment. Orzammar. I’d send you to Amaranthine, but I don’t trust the templars to leave you alone when I’m not with you, so you’ll have to come with us. There’s no blight at the moment, but there’s always some darkspawn about.’ She paused for a moment. ‘The Joining could kill you, Jowan. I hope for you that it won’t though.’

‘I’ve heard of an ordeal by battle, but not of one by drinking,’ he replied with a small grin.

‘Alistair? I’ll rather not try my memory so early in the morning,’ Núria said.

The templar nodded. ‘Join us brothers and sisters,’ he began the words of the ritual. ‘Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you.’

Núria offered the chalice to Jowan, and he looked at the three wardens before him for a moment. ‘Cheers,’ he said lightly, and squeezing his eyes shut, drained the chalice. For a second he stood frozen, his hand clutching the goblet so tightly his knuckles were white. He swayed for a moment, and Anders made a step forwards to grab his arm for support.

‘Come on, don’t die on us,’ he muttered. With a pained sound, Jowan sank to his knees and coughed. Anders’s hold on him was the only reason why he didn’t simply fall over. After a while he calmed and took deep breaths, still clutching at Anders’s wrist with one hand and the goblet with the other.

‘From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden,’ Alistair said after Anders had helped him back to his feet. ‘You know … you’re a lucky sod. If it hadn’t been for her …’

Jowan glanced at Núria, slightly shyly. ‘Thank you, Warden-Commander. I will not disappoint you.’

‘I certainly hope so,’ Núria replied. ‘But if we ever find ourselves together in battle and you want to talk to me, Warden-Commander is not your address of choice I hope.’

Anders laughed. ‘You know, you can be proud, I was out cold for two hours after my Joining. And if you really want to annoy her, call her Arl Tabris. Oh, and if …’

‘Anders?’ Núria interrupted him quickly with her arms crossed. He blinked at her as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. ‘Shut your mouth or I’ll stuff the chalice in it.’

With a very small smile Jowan handed her the goblet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((A few words on the first five bits with the letters sampi separating them. I’ve read a few stories that were answers to a challenge saying something like … put all your music on random, and write a short text for every song. You have as long as the song lasts, when it’s over move on to the next. I did this here, but I cheated with the first, where I added a bit when I read through it. The songs are: Before the Dawn by Evanescence for the eclipse (Have any of you ever seen a full solar eclipse? I have. It’s incredible.), Forest by System of a Down for the boy molesting what would be Aisling, Temple of Love by the Sisters of Mercy (originally, my version is performed by L’orchestre de chambre noir and ASP) for the practicing bit ... and no I don’t see how that fits, it’s just what occurred to me; Home, originally by Depeche Mode, in my head again by L’orchestre de chambre noir for the chapel-scene (the cover is much, much softer, and both that are mentioned are part of the album The Stolen Child which contains only covers); and The Truth Beneath the Rose by Within Temptation for the last bit.  
> Did anyone notice the quote from a movie in the chapter? It’s altered a little but not much.  
> I hope the beginning wasn’t too confusing ... It was supposed to be a little, but I guess it becomes clear before names are given ... no?))


	19. The Path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((The Path is a song by HIM, and one of the most beautiful ones, too. I chose it for a reason, so I recommend listening to it. Without giving away too much, I chose it for the lyrics. Some of the text is obvious why it fits, another bit will be in time. So much from your daily oracle.))

Only an hour later, they were all gathered outside the tower. Alistair would return to Denerim with Wynne, and Anders to Amaranthine. After words of farewell, Aisling came crashing through the gates with two sceptical looking templars in tow. ‘Warden-Commander, I have a request to make. I want to … can I visit Jowan sometimes?’

Núria smiled. ‘Of course. We’re not a prison.’

Aisling gave the other mage a tremulous look. ‘I’m sorry I betrayed you!’

Jowan shook his head and hugged her fiercely. ‘Don’t. You did more for me than anyone ever before.’

‘This is not the last we speak, Jowan. I’ll see you again. Look after yourself.’

He smiled. ‘I will, my friend.’

Jowan was very silent as they walked, and Núria decided to give him time to adjust to his situation. The second day she and Zevran still left him well alone. The third day she noticed that when they halted around noon for a few bites of their rations, he didn’t eat. She tried to remember when he last had eaten but couldn’t come up with an answer. She decided he had until evening.

When they were sitting before their fire she caught him just before he could slip into his tent. ‘Oi, mage,’ Núria said quickly and he blinked at her.

‘Mage?’ he asked in reply.

‘You’re calling me Warden-Commander, too. I’ve been watching you. Are you sick from the Joining?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You’ve been a lot more loquacious in Redcliffe,’ Núria said. ‘And I hope you’re aware that Orzammar’s up a mountain. You won’t get very far without eating.’

Jowan sighed. ‘I’ll get hungry eventually.’

‘Would you have needed more time?’ Núria asked him with a concerned glanced. ‘Irving was rather eager to get rid of us, but my guess is it wouldn’t have been a problem to convince him that you need rest.’

‘I do not need … rest,’ Jowan said doggedly. ‘What I need would be something to do.’

‘Trust me, that’ll come,’ Zevran said. ‘It always does where we’re around. Before long, you’ll be wishing you hadn’t said this.’

Jowan eyed him suspiciously. ‘I doubt that. It’s just … difficult to think. I don’t know how to say it otherwise.’

‘Have you ever broken an arm?’ Zevran asked Núria, and she stared at him.

‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘Since when are you scatterbrained? Or are you going somewhere with this?’

‘I am indeed. If you break a bone, you have to keep it at rest until it is healed. To do that, you will usually have to fixate a joint. After the long time the healing process needs, that joint will most likely be stiff. You have to put quite some effort in reversing that if you want to regain full use of the limb.’ He looked at Jowan. ‘This might be similar. Don’t let yourself fall into a stupor.’

‘Do you remember what it was like being Tranquil?’ Núria asked, unable to master her curiosity.

Jowan stared into the fire. ‘I can. I remember that you visited, I recall … every single book I found for people. I remember Aisling the first day after they had made me Tranquil. She was … trying to get a reaction out of me, although she knew it was no good. I saw her pain and didn’t care. It’s hard to believe that this was I.’

‘It wasn’t,’ Núria said. ‘I have a question for you, if you don’t mind.’

‘Why would I? I owe you.’

‘During the ritual you were calling someone. Perhaps it was nothing, but it made Alistair think you were in the clutches of a demon.’

‘I very nearly was,’ Jowan told her in a soft voice. ‘Not at first … At first I just … remembered things, as in a dream. And then I met a demon of desire. The one I called … Lily … she will be dead by now.’

‘Who was she?’

‘An initiate … I … loved her. We wanted to run away, and Aisling knew. She told Irving what we planned and framed us at his command. She had guessed I was a blood mage. I bet if I had told her the truth, she would have helped us, but I was scared and a fool. Everything I touch, I ruin.’

‘What did they do to the initiate?’ Zevran asked softly.

Jowan looked up at him. ‘They brought her to Aeonar. It’s an old Tevinter fortress, the counterpart to Ostagar in the north. Mages messed with the Veil up there a long time ago, and demons find their way into the world easily. It’s a prison where people who are suspected to be maleficarum are brought, the templars reckon they’ll be found out more easily up there because if they try to summon a demon people will notice. But the problem is, where the Veil is thinned, it’s harder to resist a demon, and it will take control of the mage that summoned it more easily. Templars have ways to keep safe. A priest, however …’

‘I am not going to say this isn’t your fault, because most likely it is,’ Zevran said, ‘but you cannot change what happened. Let it rest.’

‘Easy for you to say.’

‘Oh, I know quite a bit about guilt myself. And of how easily it can destroy you. And now eat something, you will help no one with going hungry.’ He tossed the mage a loaf of bread. ‘There. Don’t argue. You can eat alone if you prefer. Just eat.’ After a moment, Jowan nodded and took the bread to his tent. Zevran turned his glance at Núria. ‘I’ll keep an eye on him, if you like.’

‘So you think he’ll try something?’

‘To kill himself, if anything. Not to harm you. I’ll try and talk to him some time tomorrow.’

Ϡ

At first Núria didn’t know what had awoken her. She turned around to see Zevran darting out of the tent stark naked and followed him – after putting on her breeches and tunic, however.

When she finally stepped out into the early dawn, she wondered for a moment where Zevran had gone. He emerged from Jowan’s tent a moment later with flecks of blood on his arm and a grim expression. ‘This is it, we move on. We have to be more careful.’

Núria raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Jowan?’

‘I’m fine,’ a nervous voice answered her before the mage came out of his tent in a white nightshirt. He stared after Zevran who had returned to his and Núria’s tent. ‘You know, for a moment I almost thought this was a kind of joke. Because he said I’d regret wanting something to do.’

Núria scratched her head. ‘You’re … slightly uninformative.’

‘Call me a coward, but I don’t trust the templars to leave me alone,’ Jowan told her. ‘So I placed a small warding rune at the tent flap last night.’

‘Morrigan did that for us, for the entire camp. Back when we were being followed by … Zevran, as it were. And she said it would make quite a racket when someone crossed the line.’

Jowan sighed. ‘It can do that. Or it can only wake me. Less obvious, you see. For the intruder. And so I woke to someone approaching me with a knife. I pushed him back … instinctively, and he shouted, and next thing I know, your Zevran is inside my tent and on the other guy.’

‘Hmm,’ Núria made.

‘Would you like to make a guess what that was?’ Zevran asked, fully dressed now and looking wide awake. ‘I’m almost disappointed. Just one single assassin attacking me?’

‘Perhaps he wasn’t after you,’ Núria suggested.

‘Just so. You are right not to trust anyone, Jowan. This knife was meant for you.’ Jowan went paler than he already was, if that was at all possible. ‘Where’s your mabari? We could use him.’

‘In Denerim, Alistair wants to breed them.’

‘As soon as we’re in Orzammar, send a letter to him. He’ll send him after us … that beast would find you on the moon. For now we move. Jowan, next time you place a ward, make it so loud it could raise the dead.’

The mage nodded. ‘Aren’t you going to take your dagger with you?’

‘I don’t like leaving it, I have such fond memories of sticking it into soft flesh,’ Zevran said pensively. ‘But this is a Crow dagger. They’ll know who’s travelling with you now, and I … have a reputation, so to speak.’

Núria glanced at Jowan. He had blushed crimson after Zevran’s first sentence. ‘You’re worse than Alistair.’

They made as great speed as they could on foot. Over time Núria had developed a deep enough trust in magic to believe Jowan’s wards would suffice and decided against a watch. When they started climbing the mountain, Núria noticed that Jowan had some trouble, but she put it aside. They had all managed before, even Wynne. After three days Zevran gave the panting mage a disdainful glance and stopped them all. ‘You’re not breathing right.’

Jowan stared at him. ‘I wonder I’ve lived so long, then.’

‘Mages,’ Zevran muttered. ‘You never had to walk more than up one floor of that tower of yours, did you? Right … Lean forwards, let your arms fall and wait until you can breathe again.’ Núria frowned, slightly confused by this instruction. ‘We had a few young apprentices that were out of breath after two steps, too. Humans mostly. And mages. Why is it always mages that can’t breathe?’

Jowan looked defiant. ‘It’s not like I had to remind myself how to do it all the time,’ he said and stood straight again.

‘When I’m done with you, you will. Get down again. Place your arms on your flanks and take a breath … you feel that?’

‘Yes. So what?’

‘So you’re now going to breathe like this when you’re upright. Watch yourself. When your shoulders rise when you walk, you’re doing it wrong. Can you … imagine you are startled?’

‘What?!’

‘Almost,’ Zevran said with a grin. ‘Well … You have to breathe into your underbelly.’

‘If your lungs are in your lower belly, I do not envy you for your anatomy.’

Zevran rolled his eyes. ‘Consider yourself bright, do you? Breathe out, and when you think there’s no air left in you, cough.’ Jowan hesitated for a moment, but then he did as he was told, looking sceptical all the while. ‘Now open your mouth and imagine you try and swallow an egg whole. And put your hands on your flanks again. That’s it. Now keep doing this. When you have a relapse I’ll tell you and you put your arms behind your head again.’

Zevran’s tutelage seemed to help. What was more, Jowan seemed to thaw slowly. Núria decided that it was time to tell him what she had told Anders on an evening she’d rather not think about. ‘Jowan, about blood magic,’ she began on the last day of their ascent to Orzammar.

‘No need,’ he replied. ‘I’m done with this.’

She smiled. ‘I was going to say that as a Grey Warden, you can use whatever magic you like. You wouldn’t be the first blood mage amongst the wardens, not even the second. It’s a means to an end.’

‘Not for me. I was once told that blood magic changed people. It is true for me. All I did, all those crimes, I wouldn’t have committed if I hadn’t been a blood mage.’

‘Might I say something to that?’ Zevran asked with a slight frown, and Jowan nodded. ‘I have done many things I am not proud of … But even if I were to say that I will no longer be an assassin, it wouldn’t work. And you will always be a blood mage. Or, if you were surrounded by darkspawn, would you not do whatever it takes to get out alive?’

‘I … don’t know, I didn’t think of it that way. I … it occurs to me that I’ve never seen a darkspawn. Not in real life, that is.’

‘In real life? You’re having dreams, aren’t you?’ The mage glanced at her and nodded. ‘Forgive me, I should have told you that. How bad is it?’

‘Not too bad. I have them every other night, and I don’t wake more often than … say, twice even then. But it’s unnerving. Is this what they are like? Am I seeing the real thing?’

‘Indeed,’ Núria said softly. ‘During the blight, I used to see the archdemon. And once I had the impression that it saw me, too.’

‘Right, I’m not going to complain,’ Jowan said. ‘Just a side note to myself.’

Núria smiled. ‘Feel free to complain as much as you’d li…’

‘ _Núria!_ ’ a voice shouted before, without a warning, a woman ran into her, pulling her into a rib crushing hug. ‘I didn’t believe it at first when I got a letter from your man in Amaranthine, but then Alistair sent another and I thought you had to arrive sometime around now.’

‘Good to see you, Leliana,’ Núria managed, disentangling herself from the other woman.

‘Oh, and Zev, I knew you’d return, I told her so all the time,’ Leliana said emphatically before giving him an equally fierce hug.

‘Well, that’s certainly a kinder reaction than Alistair’s,’ he said with a grin.

Leliana gave a dismissive gesture. ‘He’s a dear, but he is so overprotective! Just because he’s taller than most, I tell you. He was here once, you know, visiting me. He heard that I was going to the deep roads with a few of the Legion of the Dead for my research. Oh, how he tried to persuade me not to! “You wouldn’t want to go if you’d seen it, Leliana. Spare yourself the horror of this.” As though I’d fall apart at the sight of darkspawn or corpses. Really …’

A soft high sound made Núria look to the ground. ‘Leliana, what in the name of Andraste is _that_?’

‘This is a nug,’ Leliana said unhelpfully.

Núria blinked at her. ‘Yes, I can see that. What is it doing here?’

‘It’s my pet nug. His name is Schmooples.’

Zevran burst into laughter.

‘Leliana … no offence, but what is the … the point of a nug?’ Núria asked carefully.

Leliana beamed at the small pink creature at her feet. ‘They’re cute! Aren’t they? And they’re intelligent too, they can learn all sorts of things. Look! Schmooples, dance!’ The small animal started to hop with its forepaws while the hind legs remained firmly on the floor. Leliana smiled fondly and fed it a bit of cheese. ‘The small ones do that when they beg for food, so it’s an easy command for them to learn. Oh, it likes you, ser.’ The nug had walked over to Jowan and performed its dance to him. Leliana handed him another small bit of cheese, and he offered it to the small creature.

‘This is the strangest pet I’ve ever seen,’ he said. ‘Not that I’ve seen that many apart from the odd cat or mabari.’

‘Hang on, you’re Jowan,’ Leliana said. ‘That must mean you’re a Grey Warden now.’

Jowan nodded. ‘You know, I remember you. You and the other mage thought I should be released, and so did Núria. I have not forgotten. Thank you for having faith in me.’

Leliana smiled. ‘All of us here are on our second chance, in a way. And so were many others that followed Núria against the blight.’

‘So I’ve heard. It’s still hard to believe that I’m actually free.’

‘Hmm, it’s easier to make the right choices when no one’s threatening your life,’ Leliana said. ‘But let’s get in, it’s quite cold out here, isn’t it? Bhelen will provide rooms for you, I already saw to that. Although I only expected two. But he had room for … How many? Seven? Yes, seven. Oh dear me, the good times.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((The breathing lesson is one that a singer will very likely have heard one time or another. Being a chorister, I’ve heard it quite a few times now and take pride in having mastered this.))


	20. Element of Surprise

Now that she was here with no blight weighing down on her shoulders, Núria found that Orzammar actually had its own kind of beauty. She and Zevran spent the best part of the night chatting with Leliana in the tavern – not without first sending a letter to Alistair, asking him to send Ivanhoe after her, and another to Greagoir, informing him that it was likely that one of his templars had hired a Crow. Núria refused to believe that the Knight-Commander had done it himself, although she couldn’t guess who else might have known of Jowan’s release.

When she and Zevran finally retreated to their room, she was dizzy from too much mead and knew she’d regret the last two the next morning. She stripped unceremoniously and crept into bed, giving Zevran a pleading look to follow her soon. Zevran eyed her with a smile. ‘You know, you are most delicious when you try and look innocent,’ he said, slipping under the light cover beside her. His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her close, looking so deeply into her eyes she thought he must see her very soul. His left hand slid lower and pressed her groin firmly to his. She felt the warmth of his sex through their smallclothes and a sigh escaped her. Soft lips were pressed to hers, and she closed her eyes, allowing his tongue entrance and letting her hands roam over his back.

‘What do you think of Leliana’s news?’ she muttered into the kiss.

Zevran sucked her lower lip between his teeth and nibbled lightly before he answered. ‘Honestly … I don’t know.’ His hand slid into her pants to caress her. A finger probed her entrance and found her eager already. ‘I’d say that the deep roads are very quiet now means that your Architect has no interest in attacking Orzammar. But that is a truism of course, and doesn’t mean he cannot lead troops to the surface elsewhere.’

‘I doubt it,’ Núria said, barely aware of what he had said. She hooked a finger under Zevran’s pants and tugged lightly.

He chuckled softly. ‘Greedy, my love?’ He kissed the tip of her ear and circled it with his tongue. He helped her undress him all the same before he removed her remaining clothes. ‘Anyway, I was going to say … this doesn’t feel right. All of it together. It’s all very nice with the line of battle further in the deep roads than it was in centuries and Branka making golems in relative peace … But I am sure we haven’t heard the last of this. Leliana said a few of the Legion were looking for the Architect and many didn’t return? Weird, if you ask me, as it’s supposed to be so safe now.’

Núria wrapped her hand around Zevran’s arousal and squeezed. He moaned in surprise at her sudden assault. ‘I think we should change the topic,’ she whispered, and Zevran kissed her hungrily.

‘Agreed,’ he said. He pulled her upper leg over his hip and positioned himself. ‘Hmm, I love you so,’ he said softly as he slid into her.

Núria wasn’t entirely sure which was more arousing: the feel of him or to hear him say these words.

Ϡ

When Núria awoke, she found Zevran awake and looking at her. ‘Good morning, _amora_. Or rather, good day, as I guess it’s noon by now.’

Núria sat up and stretched before drumming her fingertips on her forehead. She had expected it to be worse. ‘How long have you been awake?’

‘Oh, not so long. But I was going to wake you soon. Otherwise we’ll let Leliana and your Jowan wait at the inn.’

‘He isn’t _my_ Jowan,’ Núria protested, and Zevran chuckled.

‘The way he looks at you, he seems to think so,’ he said, and Núria stared at him. ‘Oh, no, not like that, more in the literal sense. He owes you, and I guess he’s waiting for you to want something in return. I can understand that, I thought you’d demand something from me sooner or later.’

‘Hmm, do I seem so vicious?’ Núria asked slipping into her clothes.

Zevran smiled. ‘Not vicious, but fierce and sometimes forbidding. Do you even know what your first words to him were after he woke up?’ Núria blinked and shook her head. ‘That he had no right to choose if he wanted to be a Grey Warden, for you had decided for him. However obvious this was, pretending he had a choice wouldn’t have harmed anyone either. I’m sure he would have made this decision very willingly. I know you don’t mean to be bossy, and I don’t blame you, but at least don’t be surprised if you make people nervous.’

‘I have to win out over humans all the time,’ Núria replied emphatically. ‘They’re used to kicking our kind around at will, so if I do not make it clear this won’t work with me, I won’t be taken seriously.’

Zevran put a finger on her lips. ‘Shh. I know. This is what enabled you to lead us all against the archdemon. But it is also why people who have already been trampled on like Jowan are easily discouraged by you sometimes. And as far as I heard, Jowan can be dangerous if he’s scared, so I think you should make certain he isn’t.’

Pondering this, Núria followed Zevran to the inn. Leliana and Jowan were already seated, and the bard waved enthusiastically at them. ‘Good morning,’ she said with a grin. ‘Quite a night, was it?’ Núria frowned at her, but Leliana merely laughed. ‘Say … how long are you three planning to stay?’

‘Why, do you want to get rid of me already?’ Núria asked with raised eyebrows.

‘No, not at all! Oh the contrary. I would like to show you how the upper parts of the deep roads look now. They’ve started repairing all the damage caused by darkspawn and neglect. And I’m certain Kardol can tell you much more accurately what exactly the Legion has been doing.’

‘I thought the entire Legion was destroyed,’ Zevran said. ‘I met one of them in Kal’Hirol, and she said …’

‘Oh them,’ Leliana interrupted, her face darkening. ‘About half of the Legion went there, and they’re all dead. Save the one who is a warden now, she sent a note.’ She looked at Núria. ‘Kardol wasn’t too happy first, but when I told him that you’re probably the one who recruited her, he relented.’

‘Actually, it was Zev who recruited her,’ Núria said with a smile. They were brought ale without having to order it first, and as far as Núria knew Orzammar, the first mug was free of charge, being given part of the meal. ‘She’s quite an interesting find, and it’s good that she didn’t go back to die alone. She loves reading. Imagine, a duster who knows her letters. Which reminds me, Zev, what _is_ an Antivan milk sandwich?’

Jowan choked on his ale and Zevran laughed. ‘Ask our mage, he looks as though he knows. I wish to point out that it is only called that in Ferelden. I don’t know of Orlais, though.’

Leliana patted Jowan on the back. ‘I’ve never heard of anything like that. Sounds like a lapse of taste, no?’

Zevran grinned. ‘You could say that.’

‘Don’t look at me like that, I’d rather not elaborate,’ Jowan said with a beet-red face.

‘More ale for Jowan please,’ Núria said in an undertone, making Leliana snort.

‘Hmm, Núria, let me put it that way,’ Zevran said, taking pity on the mage, ‘it’s not something you’d normally discuss in public here, and it’s a … meal for at least three.’ Leliana raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m sorry, my friend, at least three but only one woman in the middle. Perhaps Jowan …’

‘Leave me out of this,’ he said quickly, but he smiled.

Zevran tutted. ‘I’ll never understand why people are so uptight here. You flush at the smallest mention of physical pleasure as though it were something terrible.’

Leliana smiled. ‘Not terrible, but not the topic of choice for an inn, perhaps. You aren’t making love here on the table either, are you?’

‘Though that is not quite the same, I’d probably be somewhat less chaste in Antiva,’ Zevran replied with a hungry smile at Núria, who felt her cheeks go hot. ‘See, even you’re doing it.’

‘You’re doing this on purpose,’ Núria protested.

‘Shh, food is coming,’ Leliana said. ‘People know me here, you know. When you’re gone I’ll still have to deal with them. Be nice.’

They had roast nug dressed in a cream sauce of deep mushrooms. Leliana explained that this had been one of the favourite meals of a King of the Aeducan line, while Núria thought with a small smile that this was exactly what Alistair would call pretentious food.

‘I never thought nugs would actually taste good,’ Zevran said.

‘If it’s your only diet, as it’s for the casteless, you’ll be brassed off soon enough,’ Leliana replied.

‘So Bhelen did not abolish the caste system?’ Núria asked.

Leliana shrugged. ‘It’s better than it was, but he cannot abolish it from one day to the next. Personally, I don’t like him overly much. He is certainly a good king if you want someone who gets things done. But the means he chooses are sometimes a little … alternative.’

‘Meaning?’ Núria asked with raised eyebrows.

Leliana took a bite of nug and continued with her mouth still half full. ‘He dissolved the assembly.’ The bawl of a small child rang over the soft constant murmur in the inn, quickly followed by the mother’s soft soothing sounds. ‘Some say he’s a tyrant, I say he’s … overzealous and too impatient. Trade with the surface is certainly more fluent than ever before, that’s the good side of it all, and the casteless do have more rights.’

‘Hmm, Leliana, when were you planning to show me the deep roads?’ Núria asked, eating the last few of her mushrooms. The child at the other table had fallen silent again.

‘Perhaps after lunch, I thought. As in now. And we’re not going far, deeper in there are … things from time to time.’

‘Things?’ Zevran asked. ‘I assume you do not mean darkspawn if you say _things_ like that.’

‘It’s a little strange,’ Leliana said in an undertone. ‘They believe they’ve removed all the bodies from behind the line of battle, but you never know.’

‘Um, why would they bother?’ Núria asked. ‘They’re not planning to inhabit the place any time soon, are they?’

‘That is not it. Sometimes the corpses rise, and no one knows why.’

‘There were walking corpses deep down in one part,’ Zevran said. ‘The deep roads are a place where you’d expect that, no?’

‘Further in, yes. The last one close to the entrance was seen … I don’t know, a week ago. But I guess we shouldn’t push our luck.’

‘Has a mage gone down there recently?’ Jowan asked.

‘No, the entrance is guarded, and no guards were attacked,’ Leliana replied. ‘Whatever kind of mage hides in there, he didn’t get there through Orzammar.’

‘The Architect?’ Zevran asked Núria.

She shrugged. ‘If so, they corpses are an accident. Why would he want corpses if he has disciples? And he didn’t seem to wish to torment anyone. He just isn’t all that bothered not to harm others.’

‘But that was what I thought when you talked about that Architect last night, too,’ Leliana said. ‘It is something to consider.’

Jowan leaned forwards. ‘If the mage causing the corpses to rise is not too far in, I might be able to find them. If these things really are an accident, the mage will not ward themselves, I suppose. And even if they do, maybe I can tell you at least something about them.’

‘You want to go there?’ Leliana asked, looking mildly surprised. ‘The deep roads aren’t a pleasant place, even now that it’s better. It still smells of decay, and there are still occasional genlocks or some such.’

Jowan smiled grimly. ‘I’ve been groped by corpses through the bars of a cage. There at least I can evade. And having a mage with you would be an advantage. I can even protect you from an ogre trying to squash you for a time.’

‘You can?’ Leliana asked. ‘I’ve never heard that.’

‘It’s easy enough,’ Jowan said humbly.

‘So long as you don’t try to heal anyone, it’s fine?’ Núria asked with a smile.

Jowan frowned. ‘Remind me to break Anders’s nose next time I see him. It isn’t that bad. It’s true that a simple healing spell is the only one in that school I can do without thinking it through thoroughly, but I can heal you just fine, and I will not cause havoc in the attempt. Wynne saw to that, and with great patience.’

‘A pity Anders isn’t here,’ Zevran said with a grin. ‘You could demonstrate on his previously broken nose. I might even lend a hand for making sure it’s well and truly shattered, perhaps.’

‘Perhaps we should really go soon,’ Leliana said a little too quickly to change the subject subtly. ‘I’d rather not return in the middle of the night.’

‘Or perhaps,’ a voice said from another table, ‘you should consider taking a day to prepare yourselves for all eventualities. Just in case you manage to find the mage raising the dead. Unless you wish to meet such a person unprepared.’ Núria and Leliana exchanged a glance before they gaped open-mouthed at the woman who had spoken. Her face might be shadowed by a hood, and there might be a sleeping child in her arms, but her voice and manner of speech were unique enough to recognise her anyway.

‘Morrigan?’ Núria asked incredulously.

‘Ah, I see you remember my name. I will not gasp your names in return, if you don’t mind. I assure you I know them, in case you have doubts. Although … _you_ are quite a surprise. Not an entirely unpleasant one, however.’ She removed the hood and looked at Jowan with bright, piercing eyes.

‘How about … you don’t change the topic,’ Núria said, blinking her confusion away. ‘You’re … here?’

‘’Twould be the obvious conclusion, seeing how you’re talking to me. To tell the truth … I did not believe that I would ever see you again, but things turned out to be … more complicated than I had thought.’

‘How so?’ Núria asked with a sideways glance at the witch’s child.

‘You remember what we talked about before the final battle?’ Núria nodded. How could she ever forget? ‘Well, I wasn’t entirely correct in my assumption.’

‘I’m sitting here. I survived, and the archdemon is dead. How were you wrong?’

‘Well … ‘tis a little complicated to explain. The ritual … it worked. The soul of the Old God found its way into the unborn child. But it lies dormant. I can sense it, sometimes more, sometimes less, but never fully.’

‘Is there something Flemeth didn’t reveal to you?’ Núria asked. ‘Perhaps you could ask her.’

‘I will certainly not do that. I _know_ why that is, and I do believe that I also know how it can remedied. The soul of the Old God cannot defeat the one of the human child because it has been weakened by the taint. So my daughter currently has two souls. If I had a darkspawn at my disposal, and perhaps another mage to assist me, I could transfer the redundant soul into the darkspawn.’

‘You want to destroy the soul of your child for that of some sort of god?’ Leliana asked with disgust. ‘That’s horrible!’

‘Is it really? This isn’t as barbaric as it may sound. To be constantly battling another soul that tries to subdue you is probably a more horrible fate than to be destroyed. There are people who have the misfortune to be born with more than one person in their minds. Is this kind of insanity kinder?’

Leliana swallowed. ‘No, I suppose it isn’t. So you … want to prepare for this … ritual?’

‘I want us to prepare for a longer journey into the deep roads. All of us, unless one of you should object. Although I hoped for a dwarf to guide us.’

‘I have a friend – Ira – who might come,’ Leliana said. ‘She does all kind of research in the Shaperate.’

‘Very good,’ Morrigan said.

‘Just why do you think it would take us so long to find a genlock?’ Zevran asked.

‘Oh, I hope to do that quickly enough. I do not know if this is all that _needs_ to be done, however, and there is certainly more than _can_ be done.’


	21. The Song of the Birds

They spent the following day collecting supplies for a longer sojourn underground. Leliana unearthed lyrium potions from a source she wouldn’t reveal while Zevran bought bandages. On learning that Ira refused to go into the deep roads, Núria wondered if she shouldn’t wait for Ivanhoe. She voiced that thought to the others that would come with her.

Morrigan frowned. ‘Perhaps this is not the worst idea I’ve heard so far. Although I think a mabari will be able to track you down in the deep just as well.’

‘I do not like him running around there in search for me,’ Núria replied.

‘You have to take into account that it is much safer than it used to be,’ Leliana said.

Núria sighed. ‘Very well. But we’re not going deeper than the first thaig without Ivanhoe.’

‘Since when is it you do not trust me to find a safe way back out?’ Zevran asked, trying and failing not to sound hurt.

‘That isn’t it. Out in the open I trust a magical ward just fine, but we’re dealing with a powerful mage down there. Who knows, perhaps he can sense and disable the ward.’

‘That is not entirely impossible,’ Morrigan said.

‘Jowan and I can sense darkspawn, but when we’re sleeping … I just would like a guard,’

Zevran brushed his lips over Núria’s. ‘Hmm, very well. Oh, do we have enough bedrolls?’

‘We have three. We’ll need two more.’

‘I still have the one from when I last was in the deep roads,’ Leliana said. ‘We just need to find one for Morrigan.’

‘Do you think I prepared mounds of leaves on the way here? I have my own bedroll, thank you very much.’

‘I rather think you were perching on a tree on one leg and with your head under a wing,’ Zevran said with a grin.

Morrigan gave him a long, hard look. ‘You have a strange kind of humour, elf. Now let us go. I wish to get done with this.’

In comparison to what the deep roads had been like the first time she had been there, they were now almost enjoyable. There was, like Leliana had said, still a distinct smell of rot, and there was this lingering feeling of unrest on her shoulders that spoke of nearby darkspawn. But the last time it had been so bad that she couldn’t even tell if they were one or a hundred. Now she felt only a few of them, and they were distant enough not to be worrisome.

The most obvious difference, however, was the light. Where previously they had to grope for a way sometimes, there were now torches. Where the tiles on the floor had been broken they were replaced, and where the walls were coming down, they were supported by strong bars. There was even a mosaic on one of the walls in a corridor.

Núria vaguely remembered that they were following the exact same path they had taken the first time, the one that led to Caridin’s Cross and from there to the Dead Trenches. She really hoped they weren’t going there.

Almost forcefully, Núria shook off her thoughts and glanced at her companions. Zevran looked uneasy, more so than the first time – perhaps because this time he knew what he was getting himself into. This place had had an effect on him previously, more than on herself or Wynne. Morrigan wore a constant frown, her child, held in place by a piece of cloth wrapped around her, was as silent as its mother. Leliana seemed unperturbed, but that might be an act of self-conviction. Jowan looked apprehensive enough, but not ready to bolt. His eyes were wide, and he seemed to listen constantly to any sound beyond their own. ‘If you keep straining like that, you’ll have a headache in less than an hour,’ Núria warned him.

‘This is not normal,’ the mage said in an undertone. ‘It’s like I can hear something, and yet when I try to grasp it I can’t.’

Núria patted his shoulder. ‘Yes, well, try and shut it out. You’re sensing them, and here … well, that’s their domain, you could say. You’ll feel them more strongly than anywhere else. It’s not exactly what I would have suggested for a first trip.’

Jowan gave her a look of grim determination. ‘I’m not going back.’

‘The bright side of it is, you cannot be infected by the darkspawn taint,’ Zevran told him. ‘The rest of us … not so sure. And to tell the truth if I were those two,’ he indicated Morrigan and Leliana, ‘I would have a knife ready to kill myself before they get me.’

‘Oh, aren’t you cheery,’ Leliana scolded him. ‘They’re not going to _get_ us, we’ll get one of them and be done.’

‘I for one will not be done with that,’ Morrigan said. ‘And if I manage to … convince you, neither will you.’

‘All I’ve heard so far has been rather vague,’ Núria said. ‘What exactly is it you want to do after we get a genlock for you?’

‘It need not be a genlock, any darkspawn will do. What I will do after, remains to be seen. ‘Tis impossible tell how much I’ll gain from my attempt. But if this works as I hope it does, we will be only at the beginning of this.’

‘More vagueness then,’ Zevran said.

‘Not that anyone seems like they’re going to ask me, but I cannot sense a mage here,’ Jowan said. ‘Might be I’m too … overwhelmed, but I don’t think they’re near us.’

‘How near is near in your eyes?’ Núria asked.

‘Wish that I knew,’ Jowan muttered in reply.

‘Now here is an idea,’ Morrigan said suddenly. ‘How about Leliana tells us a story.’

Núria stared at the witch. ‘Come again, I think I didn’t hear right.’

Morrigan frowned at her. ‘Don’t be childish, of course you heard me. So? Unless you are too depressed.’

‘Um, no, but to tell the truth … I’m taken by surprise,’ the bard said.

‘In case your inspiration has left you, how about you tell us of Vallun the Saviour,’ Morrigan asked.

Zevran raised his eyebrows. ‘Now why would you want that of all things?’

‘Because I think it is one most of us haven’t heard a hundred times over,’ Morrigan replied coldly. ‘What with the chantry forbidding it. Do you know it?’

‘Indeed,’ Zevran said with a smirk. ‘But I think we should all know it, given the circumstances. Leliana, I assume you can tell us the story.’

‘Of course, but help me out if I forget something … Hmm … it is a tale of people that lived in a time before the Old Gods had left in the Tevinter Imperium.

‘Imperial Archon Raegad was a powerful mage and a kind ruler. But his first advisor and younger brother Vigad was a jealous man who wanted to be in his brother’s place. So if someone of the small-folk wanted an audience with Raegad, they had to call on Vigad first, and he would decide if what they needed was important enough for the Archon. He rejected most pleas, and so many people the Archon would happily have listened to never got to speak to him.

‘Once an old mage wanted an audience, because she had seen the future, and wanted to warn the Archon. She knew she would probably be forbidden to see him and thought this was actually Raegad’s fault, for Vigad always made it look like he just didn’t care. So she stood before Vigad and said, “Magister Vigad, I have a message for your brother, an important warning the Gods sent to me.” Vigad just shook his head.

‘“My brother will not hear such nonsense,” he replied. “Go home.” And she went home. A week later, she had another vision, and again the Gods told her to talk to the Archon. Again she went to Vigad, but the answer remained the same. The same happened another week later.

‘The fourth time, the mage decided to take matters into her own hands. She and a couple of other mages met, and they helped her cast a spell that would transform her into a bird. So she flew past Vigad to his brother, where she landed on his shoulder, chirping like mad, but unable to shake off the spell.

‘Raegad was an intelligent man. He understood this was no ordinary bird, and broke the spell on her. “Woman,” he said, “if you want to speak with me, you must tell my brother first.” She told him that she had done so, but without success.

‘“The Gods send you a warning,” she told him then. “Our own will destroy our realm, and it is in your hand to save us all from destruction. You need to save one of us. It is your choice which. All others will die by the hands of mortals. Let the hand of our messenger teach you how.” Raegad listened, but he didn’t believe her. How should mortals be able to destroy their Gods and the realm? He allowed the mage to touch his forehead and sent her away with kind words afterwards, but he more than doubted the truth of her vision.

‘When Raegad felt his days were numbered, he called for Vigad. He bade him bring parchment and quill, and started to write an instruction rather than a testament. He described to young mages how to transform into animals, and a number of rituals. Where he took his knowledge from he couldn’t tell. Amongst the rituals, however, was one that was particularly strange. It was blood magic, powerful and dangerous. It required the death of a God. Vigad thought his brother was mad, he reckoned his rituals were only the wild ramblings of a dying mind. However, he sold it for an amount of gold that could fill the entire ground floor of the palace – and the palace was as large as a small town. The man who bought it tried the spell on a human, managing only to kill him. He tried it on a dragon, managing only to get killed himself. What happened to the parchment then, no one knows, but the legend says it was found by a mage and passed on from one generation to the next until one would put it to use.

‘When that day comes, the person will give birth to a son called Vallun, the one who will save the world from all evil. After Vallun, all people, humans, elves, dwarves, and even qunari will live together in peace, forgetting their strife and forgiving all that has been done. After Vallun, all the sins of the world will be forgiven and the black city will shine in gold again, the salvation brought on by an Archon of Tevinter. There … is a song, I’ve heard it, but I don’t know the words. Zev, you might.’

Zevran nodded and looked firmly at Morrigan.

 

‘ _Al veure despuntar_

_el major lluminar_

_en la nit més ditxosa,_

_els aucellets cantant_

_a festejar-lo van_

_amb sa veu melindrosa._

_I l’àguila imperial_

_se’n vola cel endalt_

_cantant amb melodia_

_dient: – Vallun és nat_

_per treure’ns del pecat_

_i dar-nos alegria._

_I canta el passarell:_

_– Oh, que hermós i que bell_

_és l’Infant del xoriguer._

_Li respon ara el tord,_

_– Vençuda és la mort,_

_– i naix la vida mia!_ ’

 

Leliana had closed her eyes, now she opened them and glanced at the Antivan. ‘I never knew you could sing,’ she admitted.

‘A pity none of us understand Antivan,’ Morrigan commented.

‘I … do not remember all of it,’ Zevran said softly. ‘The song is a lot longer, and it differs from the tale as Leliana told it.’

‘It is a tale, Zevran, nothing more,’ Morrigan said sternly. ‘The song as much as Leliana’s story. Do not forget that.’

Zevran gave her a quizzical look. ‘Is it really just that?’

‘It is with this tale as it is with all of them. There may be some truth to it, and there may not be. We might yet see.’

‘Hush, there’s something ne–’ Núria didn’t get any further.

A high, piercing note cut through the stuffy air. Núria had her weapons in her hands as quickly as Zevran. Morrigan dissolved before their eyes with her child, and Leliana stared at where she had been. One of the darkspawn Núria now knew were called shrieks appeared right behind the Orlesian, another emerged from the shadows between Núria and Zevran. Núria saw the thing near Leliana raise its blade, saw the bard turn too slowly. Then the creature froze in mid-attack before Leliana hewed at it with her sword. It shattered to a thousand pieces.

‘Thank you very much,’ she said to Jowan.

He smiled vaguely and turned his attention to the other shriek. He made a quick gesture with his hand, and it hovered, suspended above the ground and immobile.

‘Interesting,’ Zevran said, walking around it.

‘Yes, where’s Morri… ah, good there you are,’ Jowan muttered. ‘I don’t know how long I can keep this up.’

‘I won’t need long,’ Morrigan promised. She produced a dagger from her robes and placed her child on the floor. It started mewling softly, and when Morrigan pierced the skin on its arm with the tip of her weapon, it cried in earnest. Núria felt torn between trusting Morrigan and the wish to hug the baby to her chest and ask the witch if she was insane.

Slowly Morrigan approached the suspended shriek. With great care she positioned her dagger at the pit in its throat and cut the skin open. ‘It be yours to carry, yours to spurn,’ she said. Jowan lifted his spell, and the darkspawn dropped to the floor.

Núria stepped closer, ready to slay it, but there was no need. A smoky substance seemed to leak from the cut in the bawling child’s arm and find its way to the darkspawn. The moment it made contact, the baby fell silent. The shriek, however, stirred, got to its feet and looked at the people standing around it. Then it turned to flee. A deadly spell from Morrigan caught it after less than two steps. ‘Well, that was simple enough,’ the witch said briskly and picked her child up. Her eyes closed and a slow smile spread on her face. ‘Yes, I sense it already. The soul of Urthemiel is getting stronger.’

‘I have a hunch that we cannot just leave now,’ Zevran said.

Morrigan ignored him and looked at Jowan and Núria. ‘How would you like not to have to die? With this being done, I’ll even be of use to you. Next time, I’ll fight with you.’ The two wardens exchanged a glance. ‘With your stubborn silence you’re trying to tell me that we are looking for that mage first, aren’t you? Or are you being craven?’

‘So after we’ve found that mage we’re doing what?’ Jowan asked. ‘Perhaps it’s just me, but I don’t get it.’

‘I’ll tell you soon enough,’ Morrigan said. ‘Núria, you trust me not to wish you any ill, I hope. What I ask is only that you will listen when I shall tell you all of it.’

‘I have some conditions to make. You leave out nothing. Tell all of us every detail of your plan, what you intend to do, and what the risks are if it goes wrong. Do this after we’ve found the mage or on our way if we cannot find him. Do not keep it from us until we’re where you want us to be.’

Morrigan smiled. ‘You have my word.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((As I said, the song would come up again. For those who didn’t read By Any Other Name the short version of what I said there: It’s a Catalan carol, and has a very political meaning. It’s called El cant dels ocells ... Listen to it, it’s really lovely.  
> The translation of the song (my altered lyrics, not the original!) would be: On seeing the greatest light rise in the happiest night the birds sing to celebrate with their delicate voices. And the imperial eagle flies up into the sky, singing a melody and saying: Vallun is born to take away our sin and give us great joy. And the linnet sings: Oh how beautiful and pretty is the child of the kestrel. Now the song thrush answers him: Defeated is death and my life is being born.  
> Note yet again that I do not speak Catalan (or Spanish) and am translating the German translation I have into English. But I’m confident enough about it. And yes, I had planned that all the time, ever since I started writing the first of these two texts.  
> Oh, and if you wish to admire me for my research, feel free to do so. Finding out what kestrel is in Catalan without knowing a soul who speaks it was a pain. Online dictionaries couldn’t help either, so that took me a while. The name Vallun would be pronounced as it is written by Leliana in her tale, Zev would make it /βaʝ’un/; β being somewhere between b and v, but closer to b. The ʝ is um ... does anyone speak Swedish? That might help. Oh well. It’s similar to the ‘ch’ in Loch Ness, but not quite the same, it’s articulated more at the front and it's voiced. Damnit: It’s a voiced palatal fricative, and β is a voiced bilabial fricative. Um .. yeah, so much on linguistics today.))


	22. Evasive

They made camp only a short while later. Pitching a tent on the stony floor was close to impossible, and apart from the illusion of privacy it served no purpose anyway, so they just lit a fire. Morrigan, to Núria’s slight surprise, sat with them as they roasted bits of nug. They had dried meat for a longer sojourn underground, too, but for the first day Leliana had bought fresh food.

They had chosen a cavernous hall off the path with only one entrance and quite enough space for them. Jowan placed a ward at the entrance and walked purposefully across it. Núria felt a jolt of electricity go up her spine, and saw Leliana and Zevran flinch as well. Morrigan merely frowned. Jowan looked expectant.

‘You’d think it’s not very helpful to cast a spell that will harm us rather than our enemies,’ Morrigan said. ‘Not that it was strong anyway.’

‘No,’ Núria said. ‘I know what this is. It’s meant to wake us, isn’t it? And the attacker won’t know.’

Jowan beamed at her. ‘Precisely. We will not be surprised, but they will.’

‘This is brilliant,’ Leliana said with a grin.

Morrigan shook her head. ‘‘Tis time to sleep. We want to get that mage soon. As it seems, ‘tis up to me to find them, no?’ She crawled into her bedroll and turned away from the others.

‘We’re in no hurry,’ Núria said patiently. ‘You do not know how this feels. I do. It’s horrible, Morrigan.’ She looked at Jowan. ‘Try and sleep, but don’t be frustrated if you can’t. It’ll get better.’

‘Great,’ Jowan muttered before snuggling into his own bedroll with his face buried in the pillow.

Núria didn’t know how long she lay awake. She had enough experience to know that the next day it would be better. The presence of the darkspawn was so strong that it was disturbing even to her. Jowan was tossing about, apparently unable to sleep. She really couldn’t blame him, she could just imagine how it was. Whenever he closed his eyes the dreams would come and wake him – here, they would be stronger than on the surface. Núria wondered if this wasn’t a bad idea when she heard light footsteps. She tensed and reached for her dagger as carefully as she could. The ward hadn’t been set off, but perhaps it had been disabled by someone.

‘Jowan?’ a soft whisper said. Núria relaxed and shifted a bit to squint at Leliana kneeling beside the mage. She was shaking his shoulder lightly, and he jumped. ‘Sorry to startle you … You cannot sleep, can you?’

‘Sorry if I disturbed you,’ he replied, also whispering.

Leliana laughed softly. ‘No, you didn’t. I was sitting guard. Want to come? If one of us falls asleep, it won’t matter, and I can wake you if you have nightmares.’ Jowan disentangled himself from his bedroll and followed her to the fire and out of Núria’s vision. ‘Is it very bad?’ she asked gently. ‘I mean … I remember I heard Núria thrashing when we first set out. I overheard her and Alistair, he said it was normal for her to have those dreams. You’re dreaming of darkspawn, aren’t you?’ There was a short pause. ‘Hmm … I really shouldn’t ask you this, but do you know why?’

‘I could only guess. I suppose when I sleep my mind is more susceptible to whatever keeps them going.’ He gasped softly as though surprised.

‘Hush, don’t,’ Leliana said. ‘Some things are kept secret by the wardens. You should be careful about what you reveal. Especially to a bard. How do you know you can trust me not to give things away?’

‘I … don’t know. Will you?’

‘No. Hmm … So what is your story? I mean … Aisling told us you wanted to escape because you were thought a blood mage. But then Núria wrote to me from Vigil’s Keep that there was an apostate at her side, and that he had escaped seven times. He had never been threatened to be made Tranquil or to be killed, only directly before she recruited him.’

‘They had evidence,’ Jowan said. ‘Uldred had forced me into it at first, but after a time I said to his face that if he ever told on me, I’d make sure they also knew where I’d learned it all. I think he was the one who gave them evidence against me, and I think he also managed to arrange a witness. He must have … framed me somehow. I would have to lie if I said I’m sorry for what happened to him.’

‘How can someone force you to become a blood mage?’ Leliana asked.

Jowan chuckled drily. ‘Quite easily, if you’re a child of ten. The templars never liked me. They liked people like Aisling who can do all sorts of nice things with magic, but those who’re best at harmful spells … Well. He threatened me to tell them things about me, things that weren’t true at the time. I had potential, he said, and he was going to use this potential. I didn’t have the backbone to say no.’

‘It isn’t your fault, no one would have done that at that age. This doesn’t make you a bad person.’

‘I’m not so sure. Also, I didn’t stop there. A few years later I learned more blood magic. Not with Uldred, but by myself. I was no better than he, and from experience this is all that defines me.’

‘Well, you can’t ask templars,’ Leliana admitted.

‘Not templars,’ Jowan said. ‘An initiate.’ Again, there was a short silence. Then –

‘One you happened to know more closely, I take it? I mean … you need not tell me, of course.’

‘It’s been almost two years, it’s fine. You’re right. We wanted to run together, in fact.’

‘Oh dear. And she found out about you and abandoned you? Then perhaps you cared more for her than she did for you. She should have stood by you.’

‘She was going to be a chantry sister. How could she accept … _this_?’

‘Well, I spent two years as a cloistered sister in Lothering before I followed Núria against her archdemon,’ Leliana informed him, then she laughed. ‘You’re looking at me as though this were completely absurd.’

‘Yes,’ Jowan said emphatically before he continued in a whisper again. ‘I mean, not absurd but … unexpected. You don’t seem to fit into a cloister. Lily did, and I should never have … sought her attention. But you …’

‘It turned out I didn’t actually fit, that’s true,’ Leliana said wistfully. ‘Jowan … when first I asked her about her past, Núria told me that with the Joining she left it behind. She told me her story much later, but perhaps you should do this too. What you did before doesn’t matter, and your future is in your hands. Make the best of it, and let the past, including Lily and Eamon and whatever else you may have done on the way, rest. And if you want something to define yourself by, let it be what you are now: a Grey Warden.’

‘You know … I’m beginning to do that,’ Jowan said softly. ‘Thank you. For listening.’

‘You’re welcome. You know … I still have two bits of nug. Let’s eat them while the others are sleeping. Food is never as good as when you’re eating it up in secret.’

Ϡ

Núria had managed to fall asleep a short while after the two humans had fallen silent. When they continued their journey the next day, she noticed that after a while Jowan walked at her height and later even half a step before her. She let him, wondering if he was on to something and at the same time checking if she could recognise the architect’s presence in the direction he had taken. Morrigan wore a look of deep concentration, probably testing if he was indeed following a trail of magic. ‘‘Tis most unexpected, but I can indeed sense something,’ she said suddenly. ‘A mage, yes … a darkspawn as well?’

‘I can’t tell,’ Jowan admitted. ‘I sense them everywhere, even though there are few here. But there is something else, too. The veil is very thin in this place, and something … some spell is making this worse. It’s small wonder demons are possessing all the corpses down here.’

‘Well, let us hope that there are few of them left,’ Morrigan said.

When finally they did meet undead, it wasn’t too much of a surprise. But they were only two and easily defeated, and they were still relatively close to Orzammar. Núria, meanwhile, got the feeling that this was in fact what she had thought: The mage was no other than the Architect. She wondered what would happen when they met again.

However, try as they might, they didn’t manage to find him. Jowan told her with some frustration that the mage was retreating as they tried to approach, probably aware of their presence and perhaps their identities. ‘I must say, I wasn’t too keen on meeting him,’ she said. ‘Although I would really like to see him in the dust, I don’t think it would be an easy feat.’

‘To that I will just say _Vilhm Madon_ ,’ Zevran said. ‘That was just horrible. Up until the point where Wynne showed us all.’

‘And saved your hide,’ Núria finished with a grin.

‘Yet again. Ah, if she were here I’d readily believe we’re going to defeat all that is to be found here, whether awake or dormant.’ His eyes trailed to Morrigan, who was feeding her child. She scowled at him, but was unperturbed by his attention or his words. ‘You never told us what your child is called. It would not be Vallun, would it?’

‘‘Twould be an odd name for a girl. She is called Darya, if you must know.’

Jowan frowned. ‘Wouldn’t have been my first choice.’

‘Oh, what a pity I didn’t ask you, then.’

‘Did you know someone of that name?’ Leliana asked.

‘My mother,’ Jowan said with a slightly disgusted look. ‘Who knows, maybe she was taken by darkspawn. Would fit.’

‘You should be grateful to have had a mother you remember,’ Leliana scolded him, if in a gentle tone.

‘I don’t know. The last memory I have of her is she screaming to my father to … what was it? Ah, yes, get the demon-child out of her house. That was just before he dumped me at the chantry.’

‘There is at least one thing I can understand,’ Morrigan said with half a smile. ‘I would certainly not call a child after _my_ mother either.’

A happy bark answered, making all of them jump.

The next day, they awoke to find Morrigan and her child missing. Jowan’s ward was still in place, and Ivanhoe had not given any sign of distress either. Her things were packed, but she wasn’t there. They waited for an entire day and a night with no sight of her. Finally, Núria turned to Jowan. ‘Can you find her?’

‘Only if she uses magic,’ Jowan said. Ivanhoe sniffed at her things, ran a few steps ahead and barked.

The next day Núria enjoyed the fact that for once it wasn’t she who was doing the leading. The mabari seemed to know the way well enough, guiding them to a small, dark passage Núria had certainly not used the last time she had been here. Beyond it, there was no sign of any previous inhabitation, but still Ivanhoe pressed forwards, unperturbed by the almost complete darkness.

When Núria was close to turning around and hoping that they would find Morrigan on their way, they heard the high squeal of a deep stalker. Núria barely managed to reach for her weapons before it turned into the witch. ‘No need to go any further,’ she said as though this was the most ordinary thing in the world. ‘He’s not here anymore.’

‘You can turn into a deep stalker?’ Núria asked with a frown.

‘I can take the form of almost any animal,’ she said. ‘Here, ‘tis the most useful one. But as I said, your Architect has left. He sensed your approach, and he fears you.’

‘So you went to have a little chat with a sentient darkspawn,’ Zevran said. ‘Would not have been my first choice for a hidden affair.’

‘I was merely informing him that we are not his enemy and that what we are planning to do will not be against his own goals.’

‘It won’t? Thing is, I do intend to see him die, yet.’

‘Why, I wonder? My goal and his are largely the same. I told him that he is causing the dead to rise with his magic, and he promised to be more careful. He was unaware of this side-effect of his experiments.’

‘What exactly was he experimenting with if he created walking corpses in the attempt?’ Jowan asked with a sceptical frown.

‘He did not elaborate. In the end of it, he wished me luck in my attempt and said he would not get in our way. He also said that he cannot help us, for it would likely lead to a disaster.’

‘Do I even want to know what someone like him calls a disaster?’ Núria asked wearily.

‘Another blight, I would assume,’ Morrigan said. ‘Which is not in his interest.’

‘How reassuring,’ Núria muttered.

‘I would now like to tell you what it is I intend to do,’ Morrigan told her. ‘I would, however, prefer to do that with a full stomach. I suggest we return to wherever your last camp was. This cave is blocked.’

Núria barely touched her food, torn between curiosity and fear of what Morrigan planned. When the witch finally finished eating and folded her hands in her lap, she snuggled close to Zevran. ‘I think I know what you’re planning, Morrigan, and it’s insane,’ the Antivan said with a small frown. ‘Unless it works, of course, which I doubt very much.’

‘You remember the story Leliana told us,’ the witch began. ‘I heard the full tale the first time during my travels after the archdemon was slain. It was not very easy to find someone who knows it. I had a good reason so look for someone who does, however.

‘The darkspawn are searching for the Old Gods in the deep, and whenever they find one, they taint it and it rises as a horror, directing them to attack above ground and plague all of Thedas. Correct me, if I am wrong. There have been seven Old Gods, and the most recent was the fifth blight. That means that two are still to come.’

‘If the Chantry has got it right,’ Núria said. ‘Who’s to say that the archdemon wasn’t any old dragon?’

‘I had that doubt, too. But ever since I could destroy the superfluous soul in Darya, I sense the power of the being that lives inside her. ‘Tis not a dragon I feel in her, but something stronger and … beautiful. That she is a girl is only fitting, as Urthemiel was the Dragon of Beauty.’

‘Yes,’ Zevran said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘ _Isn’t it beautiful_ was exactly what I thought on top of Fort Drakon.’

Morrigan ignored him. ‘The two Old Gods still slumbering are Razikale, the Dragon of Mystery, and Lusacan, the Dragon of Night. Once those two are destroyed, there will be no more blights. The Architect agrees with me that it will be then all darkspawn will have their own thoughts.’

‘They’re still vile, horrible things,’ Núria said heatedly. ‘I’ve seen them, they’re gross and some of them mad as a hatter.’

‘As are some humans. I must say I would think it preferable if there were more of those you can talk to as I talked with the Architect. ‘Twould make matters easier, don’t you think?’

‘I wonder if I really want to live in a world where you have to ask if you’ll have a genlock for a neighbour when you move into a house,’ Zevran said.

‘They prefer to remain underground. This is their home, and the Architect fully accepts that he will not be welcome in Orzammar. What they need, they can find here. And yes, he is aware that some of his own are aggressive and uncontrollable, but what he wishes is that his kind would not be killed on sight. He does understand our compulsion to do just that, all he wants is to give all of us a reason not to act like this.’

‘This is moot,’ Leliana said. ‘The two last Gods still live, and no one knows where they are.’

‘True,’ Morrigan said, and a slow smile spread on her lips. ‘If you want to find a town, you’ll use a map and a compass, if you want to find darkspawn, you’ll get the help of a Grey Warden. Now what would you use if you wanted to find the remaining Old Gods?’ Her eyes found Zevran’s and fixed him.

His face showed no emotion as he gave the answer. ‘One of their own,’ he replied, his voice firm but rough. ‘The child of the kestrel. Darya.’


	23. Thursday’s Child

For a few long seconds, all was silent. ‘Morrigan, are you insane?’ Núria asked then. ‘I mean … Fighting the archdemon when I had to was one thing, but to go and look for one …’

‘There will not be too much fighting to do,’ Morrigan said. ‘They’re sleeping, and I hope we will be able to kill them without waking them first.’

‘Isn’t there a saying, “never kill a sleeping dragon”,’ Zevran asked. ‘I wonder why you would want to do this. You have a child to take care of, why risk her life?’

‘This is her purpose, Zevran,’ Morrigan said. ‘This is what she was born to do.’

‘I’m sorry, but you never seemed the altruistic type so I have to ask. What do you gain from this?’

‘I must have an ulterior motive? Well … there is a chance that if the darkspawn find the next Old God it might … seek her out. And that is not something I would want, even though it is only speculation.’

‘Morrigan … see here,’ Núria said calmly as if she were talking to a stubborn child. ‘The Architect tried to do something with one of the Old Gods and caused the recent blight. What is to say that we will not have the same effect on him?’

‘We are not darkspawn.’

‘Jowan and I are Grey Wardens,’ Núria retorted with the same air of ostentatious calm. ‘We carry the same taint.’

‘‘Tis not quite the same. You will not cause a blight by your presence.’

‘Just how do you know?’

‘The Architect did research on your nature as well as his. He confirmed what I had assumed.’

‘But he makes mistakes, too,’ Leliana said. ‘The walking corpses and the blight both were _mistakes_.’

Morrigan huffed. ‘I cannot force any of you to help me. I only ask you to consider it, Núria.’

‘Where would you start looking?’ she asked in reply. ‘I mean … Do you want to look into every nook and cranny of the deep roads for a hidden dragon?’

‘Not the deep roads. The Architect found Urthemiel far away in the north-west of Thedas, and he believes the remaining two dragons are there as well: in the jungles of the Donarks, in a cave system that is largely filled with water.’

‘All right, I agree, this is mad,’ Jowan said. ‘How would we even get there?’

‘By ship,’ Zevran muttered. ‘I know someone who would help if we offer payment. But she wouldn’t go with us. On the way back we would be on our own.’

‘Where can we find her?’ Morrigan asked at once.

‘With any luck, in Denerim … or more likely in West Hill,’ he replied. ‘There may be someone there who could help us meeting her.’

‘Very well,’ Núria said. ‘I am … not willing to decide on that yet, and I will certainly not order anyone to come with us. If one of us says no, we’re not going, since we aren’t that many to begin with. We’ll make camp now, and when we’re up in the open again, we will decide.’

Ϡ

Núria was certain she would in the end say no. After all, this was a mad quest, and she had a feeling that there was something more behind Morrigan’s plan, something that would serve the witch only. What that might be was a mystery to her, however.

She watched the expressions of her companions, wondering what they would say. She secretly hoped that Jowan would object. Zevran would do what she did, that much was certain. Most likely the same held true for Leliana. Jowan however might wish to take the safe course, which was to leave the two dragons well alone.

Despite her intention, however, she caught herself making a mental list of what she had to do before she could leave for an unknown amount of time on such an adventure. She shook herself regularly and forced herself to think of something else.

When they were back in Orzammar, they retreated to their rooms for the night to discuss the matter the next morning. Núria still hoped that she wasn’t the only one who didn’t wish to be part of this. She wasn’t entirely sure anymore that she would say no.

The air was awash with apprehensiveness at breakfast the next day. Morrigan kept looking at her expectantly, and after a few minutes she found it was time to decide on one course or another. ‘So … Morrigan, you have a plan ready?’

The witch nodded. ‘Indeed. What I didn’t know was how to get to the Donarks, but Zevran seems to be able to help there. Once we’re in the jungle, Darya will guide us. To find the caves should not be too difficult, all we have to do is find sources of water. There will be no need to bring food for the wilds will feed us. We have to be prepared for hot climate, so you should get lighter leather for your armour. We need cooking pots, for the water in rivers and streams may be dangerous to drink.’

‘How will a small child be able to guide us?’ Núria asked sceptically.

‘There is a spell that lets me see into her mind. She will sense the two Old Gods.’

‘Will they not sense her too and wake up?’ Leliana interjected.

‘I doubt it. But even if they do, they’ll not be archdemons but drowsy old dragons. That is not quite the same.’

‘And we don’t have an army, so that isn’t the same, either,’ Núria answered.

‘There was no army on top of Fort Drakon,’ Zevran reminded her. ‘We were more, but I do believe that a half-asleep dragon is less troublesome. Not to underestimate, but we’re not to be underestimated either.’

Morrigan smiled. ‘So, what is your decision?’

Núria sighed. ‘I want to hear all others first. Zev?’

Zevran smiled at her. ‘There is nowhere I wouldn’t follow you. Your question was if I think it’s a good idea? Well, I think it is a great risk, but one that is worth taking. I’m game.’

‘If we succeed, we do all of Thedas an incredible service, and I cannot help finding the idea exciting,’ Leliana said. ‘If we fail, that is sad for us, because we’ll most likely die in that case. But in the bigger picture, I do not think our loss would be nearly as great as what we could achieve.’

Núria smiled at her. ‘True, and an interesting angle. Jowan, are you willing to come?’

‘I’d like to know what my other option is,’ he said. ‘What happens if I say no?’

‘We won’t go. We’re barely enough people for this, and none of us can bear proper armour, which I also see as a disadvantage.’

‘You would be cooked alive in plate mail,’ Zevran interjected. ‘That isn’t an option anyway.’

‘It doesn’t change the fact that we’re five people only. Five setting out to kill two gods. I don’t know, but that doesn’t sound too promising. If we decide against this, the two of us are going to Vigil’s Keep.’

‘To train new wardens,’ Jowan completed the sentence.

‘And take care of marauding groups of darkspawn,’ Núria said with a nod, ‘and recruit.’ Jowan laughed.

‘Oh that might be fun,’ he said. ‘Good afternoon, I’m Jowan, known maleficar, unsuccessful assassin, and Grey Warden. Would you like to entrust your firstborn to our order? Yes, I’ll be one of his tutors. No? Oh, well, good bye then.’ Leliana smiled, and when she saw the sour look on Morrigan’s face, she burst out with laughter. Núria grinned at him.

‘Right, I’ll not let you do the recruiting then,’ she said. ‘Or Anders, for that matter.’

‘I’m not sure if Oghren or your corpse are any better,’ Zevran replied with a grin.

Leliana choked.

‘He’s a spirit of justice, he just happens to inhabit a corpse,’ Núria said, and the two mages looked at each other with raised eyebrows. ‘But that isn’t how it works anyway and beside our point. What do you wish to do, Jowan?’

‘From what I know, I’m not going to live to a ripe old age anyway,’ the mage said softly. ‘I don’t believe I’m saying this, but let us do it. If this is what I’m meant to do, so be it.’

‘You’ve changed a lot since first we met,’ Leliana said. ‘You were very … cautious then, and I expected you to say no.’

Núria nodded. ‘I half hoped you would. But very well. If all of you trust in this insane plan, then so do I. And I also trust you, Morrigan. Lead us to victory.’

Morrigan nodded. ‘I will do my best, my friend.’

Ϡ

Once again, Núria found herself sending hasty letters: One to Justice, telling him that she would be gone for a longer time, and that he should put Anders in charge if he, for whatever reason, wouldn’t be able to continue. She offered Jowan to add a note to the mage in this letter, which he agreed to do at once. The second letter was for Alistair, telling him what they were doing and that he should keep his mouth shut tight about it.

They set out to West Hill directly after her letters had left. ‘Alistair is going to kill me,’ Núria muttered. ‘I can even hear him. “You’re doing what _Morrigan_ says? She’ll turn you all into toads, or roast you on her small fire.” I wish he were here with us, that would be fun.’

‘We have Ivanhoe, and he is smarter,’ Morrigan commented.

‘I’m not so sure he’d even do this,’ Leliana said. ‘He’s always on the careful side where magic is concerned, no?’

‘He’s a templar, even if he never became one,’ Núria said simply. ‘Come to think of it, perhaps it’s actually better he’s not here.’

‘I’ll certainly sleep more peacefully this way,’ Jowan said.

Morrigan laughed. ‘As though the harebrained fool would ever harm one whom Núria protects. The only time he tried to make a stand against her, it was entirely foolish to do so, and he backed down at one harsh word.’

‘Alistair tried to make a stand?’ Zevran asked incredulously. ‘I don’t remember that.’

‘That was directly before we met,’ Núria replied, not really wanting to discuss this. ‘I was acting entirely against his conviction, but I still think it was best that way. Now more so than ever.’

‘You know … I must agree with you on that, this one might certainly be useful,’ Morrigan said with a small smirk at Jowan, who tensed slightly. ‘Say, Jowan … Why did you not attempt to flee from the arl’s dungeon? I mean, since when can a mage be kept so easily in a non-magical prison?’

‘I wouldn’t have run if they’d told me to stay without putting a lock on my door. Besides, after the treatment Isolde put me through I doubt I could have summoned up the strength.’

Morrigan smiled vaguely. ‘Hmm, I suppose that she had to die in the process is not the greatest regret of your life.’

Jowan looked defiant. ‘Not the greatest, but I did _not_ enjoy killing her.’

Núria was about to save Jowan from Morrigan’s questioning, but suddenly Leliana strode before the witch and glared at her. ‘Maker’s breath, leave him be! Not everyone is as cold and callous as you’d like us to think you are.’

Morrigan laughed. ‘Oh, ho, ho, what is that now? If Leliana falls for you like that you sure must have a certain charm.’

Leliana and Jowan both flushed, and Zevran suppressed a chuckle.

‘Enough,’ Núria said sternly. ‘Morrigan, we all have issues, you and me included, but my guess is this trip will be a lot less strenuous if we don’t start getting in each other’s hair. But if you insist on discussing the past, let’s talk about your mother for a change, and what mantis-like life she had planned for you.’ For a moment Morrigan looked crestfallen, then angry. ‘If that does not agree with you, take into consideration that others also may have things they do not wish to debate. Thanks.’

Zevran let out a low whistle. ‘You know, I take back what I said. You _are_ vicious. And it’s perfectly thrilling.’

Ϡ

They reached West Hill a few days later in the evening, and Zevran lead them to the small inn he had stayed at a while ago. The innkeeper eyed him rather sceptically. ‘Haven’t I seen you before?’

‘Indeed you have,’ Zevran replied with a grin. ‘I believe I paid for at least twice as long as I stayed, didn’t I?’

‘I dunno that I like to have people who disappear overnight anyway. How long are you planning to stay?’

‘I don’t know,’ Núria admitted. ‘Might be a while, we’re looking for someone.’

‘Do you know, by any chance, if the _Siren’s Call_ is going to harbour here any time soon?’ Zevran asked.

The innkeeper glared at him. ‘ _Siren’s Call_ , is it? She’s gonna come tomorrow they say, and I can’t say that anyone decent cares to see the ship or the bitch that’s steering her.’

‘Aren’t we lucky? One night it is, then, or however long she’ll stay here.’

‘I only got three rooms. The others can sleep in the stable.’

‘I most certainly will not do that,’ Morrigan said.

‘Well, this beautiful woman here and I need only one room,’ Zevran said. ‘Leliana can share with Morrigan, I guess …’

‘You guessed wrong,’ Morrigan said. ‘I prefer privacy.’

‘Ah, put the pretty one in a room with that girl in the blue dress,’ the innkeeper suggested with a grin. Jowan flushed but didn’t protest, while Leliana looked like she would very much like to melt into the floor.

Núria decided to save them. ‘Zev … you’ll manage without me for a night. Leliana and I share a room, you stay with Jowan. Morrigan … have it your way.’

‘The mutt does not go into my rooms,’ the innkeeper added finally. ‘Put him in the stable.’

‘Fine,’ Núria said. ‘Just give us the keys and be done.’

‘Leliana, of all people,’ Zevran said in a whisper. ‘I should rather keep an eye on you, shouldn’t I?’

‘Same to you, Zev,’ Núria replied with a grin. ‘Good night … And please keep your trained ears half open, just in case.’

Zevran nodded. ‘If Morrigan hadn’t disagreed, I would have. Letting Jowan stay alone is perhaps unwise. But if we leave tomorrow, that will not be an issue. I doubt that either templars or Crows will be stupid enough to follow where we’re going.’

‘You know,’ Leliana prompted Núria the moment the door of their room closed behind them, ‘I hoped to get you alone for a moment.’

‘Is anything troubling you?’ Núria asked, getting a night shirt out of her pack.

‘Troubling, no. I’m just wondering … Isn’t this a little much for Jowan?’

‘Probably. But he chose to come, and I’ll not turn him down. I suppose he’s stronger than he gives himself credit for.’

‘He’s certainly determined,’ Leliana agreed, slipping under the covers in a frilly pink dressing gown. ‘Perhaps he’ll get better now, but down in the deep roads he was sleepless all the time, and it was getting to him. And he looks almost starved.’

‘He’ll get better. The Joining does things to you, and if you’re not very substantial to begin with … well.’

‘You’re not worried?’

Núria smiled. ‘No. And you shouldn’t be either.’ She grinned at Leliana. ‘You know, you do seem rather protective. I heard you talk to him, in the deep roads. I didn’t mean to listen, but I couldn’t sleep myself.’

‘I knew you’re awake. You don’t lie that still when you’re sleeping. I just thought … He seemed to be in pain, and I thought he could use some distraction.’

‘I bet he could,’ Núria replied. ‘I just think … perhaps he’ll get the wrong idea? I mean … you’re a beautiful woman, aren’t you?’

Leliana gave Núria a contemplative smile. ‘Hmm, perhaps he will.’ Even in the darkness of the room Núria could see that her cheeks were rather red. ‘Perhaps the idea won’t be so wrong, though.’

Núria raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh? You know … he may be wearing something that looks like a dress to an inexperienced eye, but he _is_ a man. Or at least his stubble makes me think so. I didn’t check, though.’

Leliana smacked her side. ‘Very funny. You think I’ve only ever been with women?’

‘It’s not about who you’ve been with, Zev’s been with men, too.’

‘Yes, well. I tended to think a woman would be … preferable in a serious relationship, but that thought nearly got me killed, didn’t it? And anyway I don’t even know if he’s … I mean, he talks to me, but he talks to you and Zev as well.’

‘Don’t say you’re being shy now,’ Núria said with a laugh. ‘That’s certainly a first.’

‘True, but I … Núria, I’m actually feeling nervous around him. It’s been a long time since that has happened to me, I thought I had … outgrown that.’

‘Leliana … I certainly have outgrown the age where I’d offer you to find out for you if he likes you back. I suggest you try and find out yourself.’

‘What if he just … wants to get over his Lily?’ Leliana asked suddenly.

Núria sighed. ‘I doubt it. He met a demon that took her shape in the fade, and he saw through the disguise. If I met a Zev-shaped demon, I do not think I’d have the strength. So I guess he’s over her. Perhaps he doesn’t even know that yet, but I just can’t imagine you have enough in common with her to pass as a proper substitution.’

‘How so?’ Leliana asked in a small voice. ‘She was an initiate. And I once asked him what she looked like, and she had red hair.’

‘He also said he couldn’t picture you in a cloister, whereas she belonged there,’ Núria pointed out. ‘And unlike her you do not think he is evil because he is a blood mage. I’m not going to tell him that, but the picture I have in mind is that of a sanctimonious, fussy, hypocritical chit with more beauty than wit and no idea what to _love_ really means. I don’t see where you’re anything like that.’

Leliana laughed softly. ‘I shouldn’t, but I’m feeling better now. Thanks.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Two things: Chapter heading ... there's a nursery rhyme called Monday’s Child: Monday’s child is fair of face, / Tuesday’s child is full of grace, / Wednesday’s child is full of woe, / Thursday’s child has far to go, / Friday’s child is loving and giving, / Saturday’s child works hard for a living. / But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day / Is bonny and blithe and good and gay. Did you ever wonder why Wednesday Addams is called Wednesday? There it is.  
> Second ... about Leliana ... No, I hadn’t planned that. Oh heck.))


	24. Teach Me War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Teach Me War is a song by ASP, most of the lyrics are German though. I’ll give a translation on demand.  
> Umm ... I didn’t plan to split POVs again, but the overall narrative simply isn’t omniscient enough to avoid it here.  
> Needles for leather or canvas are indeed rather special and expensive. The ones for leather are flattened and broad and bent slightly towards the tip and have very sharp edges to cut through the leather without destroying the fibres. Needles for canvas are rather similar but less broad and the tip is drawn out longer. If you want to repair a tent, that’s the needle you want. Now the last one of the special needles would be the semi-circular basting-needles (at least that’s what I think they’re called), used for sewing things you can’t use a needle for, like upholstery. Confused now? You'll see.))

_Núria_

 

The next morning, Zevran and Núria went to find the _Siren’s Call_ together, and Morrigan announced that she was coming with them. Núria turned to Leliana. ‘Both Zev and I are going to die in our clothes in a jungle. You know my size, right? Do me a favour and find me something that will not kill me … and doesn’t look too gross.’

Leliana laughed. ‘Oh, of course. Zev, I can get you some lighter leather too.’

The assassin grinned. ‘I do wish to survive this longer than a day, yes. And that robe looks too warm too. The few mages I had to do with in Antiva wore very thin silken robes.’

‘I’m so not going to run around in a silken robe and have you laugh at me,’ Jowan replied with a weak smile.

Núria pretended to assess his clothing with a tilted head. ‘Still,’ she said. She took the fabric of his sleeve between her fingers, testing it, and found that she wouldn’t even have to lie. ‘Jowan … I suggest something lighter, and not a robe. You’re going to crawl through a dense forest. Morrigan, same to you.’

The witch simply tipped her forefinger against her head. ‘I’m not going to walk anywhere with those two alone. They’re going to make me lose all my common sense to get me to their level. The only reason why I am not worried about my mental health is that you are coming with me.’

‘Thanks … I guess,’ Núria said, shaking her head. ‘Anyway, I entrust to you two to get us some reasonable clothing. Off you trot.’ She watched Leliana and Jowan walk off into the maze of the village for a moment before she glanced at her other two companions again. ‘How … was your night?’ she asked then, starting towards the harbour.

‘Bearable,’ Morrigan said. ‘But I do not expect the next few nights to be quite as comfortable as this one was, do not worry.’

‘You’d better not,’ Zevran said. ‘If we’re going to persuade my old friend to take us with her, we’ll sleep in the stockroom.’

‘Who is this friend of yours, anyway? The innkeeper didn’t sound too fond of her, did he?’

‘He wouldn’t. Most people aren’t too fond of pirates. But she’s not unkind. She will, however, want payment.’

‘Will she want more than we have on us?’ Núria asked.

‘No. We will not have to pay overly much. She likes you well enough, and me … Well, she’d like me better if she could have me once more.’

‘You are rather convinced of your charms, aren’t you?’ Morrigan asked him.

Zevran leered at her. ‘Oh, certainly, my friend. As are you, and rightfully so.’

‘Zevran!’ a voice called, and Núria recognised it at once. ‘And the warden. Now don’t tell me that this is a coincidence, I’m not going to believe it.’

‘Good morning, Isabela,’ Zevran replied, walking purposefully towards the beautiful woman. He was swept into a hug, and to her own surprise, so was Núria.

‘Still with you, is he?’ the pirate asked. ‘I must say I didn’t expect he would actually settle down. What brings you here?’

‘I will not beat around the bush, Isabela,’ Zevran said. ‘We need a ship that brings us as far north as possible.’

Isabela stepped closer and lowered her voice. ‘Are you on the run? Where are you planning to go? I’d suggest Tevinter if you have to hide.’

‘We’re not fleeing, we need to find … something in the Donarks,’ Núria said.

Isabela frowned slightly. ‘Find something? I do not like the sound of that. I’d rather know what I am getting entangled in before I say anything. Do you have coin to pay me, anyway?’

‘We have, and we will help wherever it is needed,’ Zevran said. ‘We are planning to find two old dragons and destroy them. I will readily tell you why when we’re done, but before that I think it is better not to shout about it.’

‘Hmm. And how are you going to get back? I can hardly wait at the coast, and I do not care to help you find a dragon in the jungle.’

‘What you could do, is remain up in the north with your routes,’ Zevran said. ‘I do not ask it of you, though.’

‘Hmm,’ Isabela made again. ‘It’s been a while since last I travelled up in the north. Perhaps it is time to return there for a time.’ A slow smile formed on her face. ‘Now about payment … I’d suggest non-pecuniary compensation, but I do not think your friend here would agree to that.’

‘Nor would I,’ Zevran replied simply. ‘Perhaps one of the other two will be up to that.’

‘Other two?’ Isabela asked. ‘I see only one with a child, and a dog. The woman has only been frowning so far, and even you wouldn’t be so outrageous as to refer to the dog. Who’re _you_ anyway?’

‘Morrigan,’ Morrigan said coldly.

‘There are two more,’ Zevran said.

‘I doubt very much that either of them will agree to … um, well,’ Núria said quickly.

‘Ah, but why?’ Zevran asked. ‘Jowan sure could do with some fun.’

‘One second,’ Isabela said, interrupting with a frown. ‘So I am ambushed by three people, a babe, and a dog that want to go to the Donarks and tell me that there are two more of them. And you claim you want to slay a dragon. This sounds a little … strange.’

‘We will not get you into trouble,’ Zevran said. ‘But we need your help, Isabela.’

The pirate folded her arms and looked at him. ‘Yes, because who else might be insane enough to agree to something so fishy? I will have a look at the other two before I say anything.’

‘They’re not going to set your ship on fire,’ Núria told her calmly. ‘One of them is an Orlesian bard who was with me when we fought the blight. The other is a fellow Grey Warden.’

Isabela sighed. ‘Fine. You pay me fifty sovereigns. Before I have the gold, we’re not leaving. I’m going to drop you off in a dinghy north of Qundalon. I’ll show up near there once in a while, you can either signal me with a fire or strike south towards Sundarin. There’s a small trading harbour there. I’ll make the routes short, I’ll try and come by Sundarin once or twice a month. That is all I can offer. I will not send a search party after you, and if I get into trouble I’ll leave and not come back, and you’re on your own.’

Zevran nodded. ‘That is more than I would have asked. I thank you, my friend. When are you leaving?’

‘Sunset. And I’m not going to wait.’ With that, she turned on her heels and strode away, shaking her head.

‘Well, this is certainly going to be an interesting journey,’ Morrigan said. ‘How did you know that woman, Núria?’

Núria grinned. ‘She taught me some fighting. Leliana might like that, too.’

‘There are many things Leliana would like about Isabela,’ Zevran commented with a smirk.

‘You’ve got her all figured out, Zev,’ Núria said cynically.

‘Sad thing, really,’ he said, not sounding sad at all. ‘Jowan’s a handsome one.’

‘And there I thought you have taste,’ Morrigan said.

Núria rounded on Zevran. ‘You didn’t say … I mean …’

Zevran started laughing. ‘No, I told him nothing. To tell the truth, he fell asleep before he had lain down properly, so we didn’t talk that much.’

‘Good,’ Núria said.

Zevran snickered at her. ‘So our bard isn’t entirely one-sided? Alas, I should have known that earlier.’

‘You’re the worst lecher that has ever been born,’ Núria said with a laugh.

Zevran smiled at her. ‘And yet you’ve tamed me.’ He stopped in his tracks to kiss her.

‘Can we skip the part where you devour each other for all to see?’ Morrigan asked after a few seconds, and they broke apart, both smiling.

‘Let’s find the other two,’ Zevran said with a smirk. ‘There are only so many places where you can buy clothing. Perhaps I can at least spy a glance at her trying on armour.’

 

_Leliana_

 

It was enough to drive one to despair. The dingy shop was full of armour, and she had found a set for Zevran all right, but Núria … She was small and slender, and to find armour for an elven woman wasn’t the easiest thing anyway, but she was worse than the average. ‘Look here,’ Jowan called over to her from the darkest and dingiest corner of the entire place, and she walked over to look. ‘That might fit, I guess. Perhaps a bit too wide in some places.’ Leliana assessed the armour. It looked a little like Dalish armour, and it had probably been made for an elven woman, but a slightly broader one with more of a bosom and rounder hips. Not that Núria looked mannish, but she certainly would not fill this piece of armour. ‘I think it’s beautiful,’ Jowan prompted her.

Leliana agreed. She thought again, and found that she didn’t only agree because she was being unobjective. ‘True. Let me see. If I take a bit away here … and there …’ she tried to tug the light leather into another form, ‘it would fit.’

‘You can do that? Make armour?’

Leliana laughed. ‘No, but I can repair it. Or make small changes, like this. If you don’t have someone who makes it extra for you, you almost always have to make some changes. Armour must fit perfectly, especially for a melee fighter. It must make every movement with you, and it shouldn’t catch on branches or such things. I usually don’t like to get up close, so it doesn’t matter that much. Although … come to think of it, I don’t have many arrows, and I don’t want to think how many I’ll need in the jungle. Perhaps I should sell the bow and get me a piece of better armour instead. Oh, and dear Maker, I’ll need a set of needles. Sewing leather is impossible without a good strong needle. It’s nuisance enough if you have one.’

Jowan felt the leather between his fingers. ‘I bet.’

Leliana looked at him. ‘Hmm, Jowan, would you like to get some lighter clothing on your own?’

‘Oh … That would certainly make this faster,’ he replied, blinking for a moment before he started to walk towards the door.

Leliana stared at him for a moment. ‘On the other hand, you found this here, while I probably wouldn’t have ventured into that corner if I could help it.’

Jowan stopped and turned to look at her with a small smile. ‘I’ll make this simple. Are you trying to get rid of me, or were you really just being practical?’

Leliana laughed softly. ‘Well, candour is certainly a virtue. I was just thinking that this really might be rather boring for you. If you wish, you can get things for yourself while I finish this here. But please don’t think that I want you to go.’

‘Oh, in that case I’ll stay,’ he replied, and she could feel how her cheeks grew pink. Judging by the look on his face, he noticed that, too.

‘I … um, would like something that has no green in it,’ Leliana said quickly, looking through pieces in search for something she had seen before.

‘No. We wouldn’t want to mistake you for part of the jungle.’

Leliana snorted. ‘That, too. And it makes me look sick. Ah, there. This should fit. I should try it on, but I don’t want to place my things anywhere in this hovel. Remind me to point out to the other two that they should clean their new armours before wearing them, by the way … This shop is just … ugh.’ She took the things she had gathered and went to find the shopkeeper asleep in a chair behind his counter. He miscalculated the sum to his disadvantage, which Jowan pointed out to him. Leliana decided she liked him more with every second. ‘Now … what do we get you?’ she asked happily.

‘I think I would prefer to keep my robe. I mean … I’d feel weird in something else.’

‘Hmm. I guess I can understand that. But … Jowan, when you were on the run, have you ever tried manoeuvring through dense spinney?’

Jowan sighed. ‘Yes, and before you ask, I tore a robe on it. I guess you’re right, but who’s to say I won’t tear my legs next?’

Leliana giggled. ‘Your legs aren’t woven fabric. They don’t catch on twigs or so. And up north, there aren’t many thorny plants.’ She smiled at Jowan, noticing that his eyes were on her face all the time they talked. ‘Keep your robe, Jowan, but perhaps you should have something in case you change your mind.’

He smiled. ‘Now that’s an idea. And there’s a tailor’s, and it doesn’t even look as seedy as the armourer.’

‘True. Let’s just figure out what kind of fabric is best for such a place. I’d suggest linen.’

‘Yes, well, I’d never see the end of it if I showed up with silk. Zevran never stopped laughing about how that man said I was wearing a dress. He’d only shut up when I pretended to sleep.’

Leliana smiled. ‘Zev’s all right. He has a big mouth, but he is a good soul. Best laugh with him when he gets like that. And now we’ll find something for you that’ll give him a pause.’ She strode into the tailor’s shop before Jowan and smiled at the buxom, young woman who owned it. ‘Good morning. What would you recommend to a mage who is about to spend the next few … um, I don’t know, weeks, in the Donarks?’

‘Oh, well, so far up north I’d say linen,’ the woman said, making Leliana look rather smug. ‘Ye ‘ave ligh’ skin so … Bu’ well, the woods are so dense ye won’ get’ sunburned. Give me a moment, I ‘ave some things tha’ are perfec’.’ The small woman scuttled out of sight through a door. She could be heard rummaging for a while before she returned with both arms full of clothes. Leliana beamed while Jowan looked slightly intimidated by the sheer amount of things. ‘Take yer time, there’s a room in the back where ye can change if ye’d like to try something. We won’ go and peep. Though I can only speak for myself.’

Leliana went crimson and delved into the pile of clothes before her, while the tailor disappeared behind the door again. ‘Look, how about this.’ She held up a dark green pair of breeches that would reach down to his knees and a sleeveless tunic.

Jowan smiled wryly. ‘To tell the truth, I prefer long sleeves.’

‘Linen can be cooling in great heat, but still. I picked sleeveless things for the rest of us, too. Trust me, Orlais is much further south than the Donarks, but still hotter than here, and I’d not like to spend a summer at home in long sleeves. Why, anyway?’ Then it dawned on her. ‘Oh, dear me.’ Despite herself, she grabbed his left hand and pulled up the sleeve. Scars crisscrossed over his forearm, all of them long healed, but still they formed a stark white web on his skin. Jowan had turned away at her scrutiny, but she looked up at his face with so much determination that he couldn’t resist for long.

He pulled away and took a step backwards. ‘I should have gone on my own when you suggested that. You weren’t meant to see this. No one was.’

Leliana felt very much like hugging Jowan but suppressed the urge. ‘Jowan … I have a few scars of my own. Most of them are not for all to see, but they’re there, and some of them hurt for a while. There are salves and massages that can stop that.’

Jowan looked back at her, and the trace of a smile formed on his lips. Leliana’s heart skipped a beat. ‘They don’t hurt, they’re just ugly,’ he said. The door opened, and the tailor returned with a wicker basket full of rags she set to work on. ‘They aren’t deep enough to be a problem.’

‘Well, then there’s a chance that salves will reduce them. I’m sure Morrigan can make them, I’ll ask her, if you like. And I suggest you just don’t think about them. None of the others will be greatly shocked or anything. They are part of your path in life, the very path that brought you here eventually. Despite Zev’s teasing and Morrigan’s snappishness, you’re among friends here. You needn’t hide.’

Jowan looked stricken. ‘I … look, what about this?’ He dragged a plain, uncoloured tunic from the pile. ‘Alas, sleeveless again. But perhaps you’re right. No running away, not even in a metaphorical sense.’

‘Go, try them on already,’ Leliana encouraged him, and Jowan disappeared with a few pieces of clothing. ‘Hmm, could you sell me a set of needles, by any chance?’ Leliana addressed the tailor. ‘I’ll need one for leather … and one for canvas to be on the safe side.’

The young woman quit her work and started rummaging in drawers. ‘I sure ‘ave such needles, bu’ they’re expensive. No’ too easy ter ge’ ‘em, and I only go’ one set. You can ‘ave ‘em for five sovereigns, I gotta send someone ter fetch me new ones from Denerim. No way ye ge’ them anywhere else, and I gotta pay the bloke I send.’

Leliana sighed. ‘Well, yes, I guess I won’t get another chance to buy any.’

‘I’ll give ye another two small needles extra and a bi’ o’ threa’. Good threa’ i’ is, too. Silken threa’. Bes’ there is.’

‘Thank you very much,’ Leliana said with a smile. Jowan emerged from the back, looking rather self-conscious. ‘Ooooh, this looks just great,’ Leliana said. ‘Don’t you think so, too?’ she asked the tailor.

The woman smiled. ‘Rakish.’

Jowan blushed slightly. ‘I’ll just trust you, then.’

Leliana paid the woman and headed towards the exit. The moment they wanted to leave the small shop, someone stepped into the door. He was a hulk of a man, ducking slightly not to bump his head on the door as he passed through it.

Just over the threshold, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked down at Leliana. ‘You’d better both refrain from moving, or you’ll never see the next day.’

Leliana ignored his warning and spun around, seeing the tailor was gone. She grabbed Jowan’s hand and started towards the other door, but that too was blocked quickly by two armed men. One of them trained a crossbow on Leliana. Jowan tore himself free from her and raised his hands in surrender. The man with the crossbow directed his weapon at him instead and started walking towards him. Jowan backed away from Leliana until his back was against a wall.

The man approaching him laughed, but only for a moment. Jowan brought his arms down in a violent movement, and energy erupted from his body, knocking the man with the crossbow off-balance. Leliana kicked his weapon out of anyone’s reach in an instant before she rammed a small dagger into his throat. Jowan saw the man in the exit moving forwards but ignored him, casting two spells on the man in the way to the back rooms, one ripping him up into the air with his head yanked back, the second making him glow in an eerie reddish light. He gave a scream of surprise and pain. The man in the door growled, and at one gesture, both spells broke. The rescue had come too late, however, for Leliana had got to him in the meantime and killed him before he could move again.

Jowan paled. He opened his mouth to say something, but he never got to utter a syllable. The man stretched his palm out to him, and he was knocked to the ground and moved no more. Leliana was going to run to the hulk of a man to attack him too, but suddenly he opened his mouth, and blood gushed from it. He fell forwards pathetically, twitching for a moment before he lay still. Leliana stared at him before she looked to the door, ready to attack, just in case. She found Núria, grinning smugly.

‘What did you …’ the Orlesian began but faltered.

Núria strode up to the body on the floor and pulled a knife out of it. ‘I still can’t handle a bow, but these I can work with. Where’s Jowan?’

Leliana swallowed. ‘That man must have been a templar, he did something to him, but I don’t know what,’ she said quickly and ran behind the counter.

To her relief, Jowan was already half-sitting again, pressing his palms against his temples. ‘Templar, indeed. And _that_ always hurts.’ They helped him to his feet quickly.

Meanwhile, Zevran and Morrigan had stepped in. ‘Now how did they know where you are?’ Zevran asked. ‘Did you introduce yourselves? We’re a bard and an apostate, please kill us?’

Leliana shook her head. ‘No, I only said …’ She fell silent and bit her lower lip. ‘This is my fault. I said we’re going to the Donarks.’

Zevran nodded and rushed into the back of the house. Minutes later he emerged with the tailor, holding her by the scruff of her neck. ‘Is that she?’ Leliana nodded. Remorselessly, Zevran let her drop to the floor and gutted her.

‘What did you do that for?’ Jowan asked, sounding distressed.

Zevran wiped his dagger on the dead woman’s clothes. ‘Because I bet you have to thank her for those three. And if she knows where we’re going, she’ll send more after us. Let’s get out.’

Leliana glared at the body of the tailor. ‘She’s not keeping my money.’ She salvaged a key from the corpse. Quickly she unlocked a drawer and took the entire gold in it with her after a moment of hesitation. Then she emptied the large wicker basket with the rags and put the sets of armour into it. ‘ _Now_ we can go,’ she said then, looking rather pleased with herself.


	25. Force of the Shore

As they approached the _Siren’s Call_ , Isabela was already waiting for them. Catching sight of Leliana with her large basket and blood spatters on her face, her eyebrows travelled upwards. ‘Welcome aboard the _Siren’s Call_ ,’ she said when they had all stepped on board. ‘Tonight is rather a sharp wind, I hope you don’t have weak stomachs.’

‘If you get sick, there’s the railing,’ Zevran said with a smirk.

‘Indeed. No throwing up onto my floor. And no bloodshed on my ship if you can help it.’

Leliana shrugged. ‘As long as you don’t try to have one of my friends assassinated, I’ll be peaceful.’

‘So above all things you have assassins on your tail?’

‘You have two of them right before you,’ Zevran reminded her. ‘And I am not the only one whose death would be worth quite some gold. A few nobles are after my dear warden here, and apparently someone else is after the other. Any idea who that might be, by the way?’

Jowan snorted. ‘Something like everyone I’ve met in my life, I’d guess. Templars, mages, Isolde’s family … Who knows?’

‘I refuse to believe that this is Greagoir’s doing,’ Núria said.

‘No, he doesn’t seem the type,’ Jowan answered. ‘He’s a lot of things, but he isn’t vengeful. But it will be someone from the tower. It doesn’t matter, we’ll be gone within the hour, and let’s face it, we don’t know if we’ll even survive.’

‘I know a little something of ships,’ Leliana said. ‘What type is it? Do you have oars, too?’

‘No,’ Isabela replied. ‘I don’t have enough men for that. But take a good look at the ship and tell me what it is I steer through the sea.’

Leliana laughed softly. ‘Very well. I see four masts, all of them square-rigged. I think you call it a full rigged ship in Ferelden.’

‘Indeed. We have fitted four sails on each of the masts except for the jiggermast. Oh, we have to repair the royal sail of the mizzenmast, but Jenson the idiot somehow managed to lose the sailmakers.’

‘I have a needle I can lend you,’ Leliana said with a grin. ‘I … um … bought one today.’

‘You wouldn’t care to leave it here when you are in the Donarks?’

‘Sorry, I bought it in case we have to repair our tents.’

Isabela sighed. ‘I didn’t think so. Well, but if you could lend us the needle that would be good.’

‘I can fix it for you, if you like.’

Isabela shook her head. ‘No offence, but no. I’ll do that myself. Then at least I cannot blame someone else if it’s not done well.’

‘Never offer a captain to do anything on her ship other than cooking, perhaps,’ Zevran said. ‘They’re always so sceptical.’

‘How many captains have you met?’ Isabela asked him.

‘Oh, the one representative was quite enough,’ he answered, smirking at her.

‘Anyway, we’ll sail to the east, obviously. When we get out of the bay, it will get calmer.’

‘Which doesn’t matter, for you’ll be used to it by then,’ Zevran interrupted her.

Isabela laughed. ‘Always the optimist. We will stop at Ostwick and Wycome in the Free Marches, Rialto in Antiva, and Dairsmuid in Rivain. At all those stops my men will organise fresh food and water. Then we will travel a little longer to Seere, and then even longer to Qarinus in Tevinter. Next will be Minrathous. Then we make for Sundarin in the Anderfels and finally further north past the Qundalon delta where I will drop you off. I still suggest disappearing in Tevinter, perhaps to all of you. You all look like you attracted more than your fair share of attention somehow.’

‘Tevinter,’ Jowan echoed. ‘Almost tempting, but I’d prefer if I could just be left alone in Ferelden, thanks.’

‘Perhaps you should try assassinating Greagoir in return,’ Morrigan suggested.

‘I know you’ll all ask me if I’ve hit my head now, but I do not think this is a good idea,’ Zevran said. ‘Even if you could afford to pay Crows for that, and I am sure for the right amount of money someone could be found for the job, you would only make things worse.’

‘I had no intention to hire any assassins,’ Jowan replied.

‘Alistair knows about this already,’ Leliana said. ‘He’ll stop it.’

‘Yes, because he is so very fond of apostates,’ Morrigan said scathingly. ‘Especially the one who killed off his family. I’d sooner wonder if he might not be the one sending the assassins.’

Leliana stared at her. ‘He’d never do that!’ She blinked and looked at Núria. ‘Would he?’

Núria shook her head. ‘No. And Alistair’s actual family was killed by an ogre or else is still alive and bemoaning the cruelty of her fate in Denerim. Whoa!’ The ship started swaying suddenly as they put out to sea.

Isabela, who had disappeared from view for a moment, returned with a grin. ‘You’d better get used to it. Might be you won’t sleep all too well tonight, but I’ll show you where you can stay anyway. Oh, and whatever you have heard about seamen, they’re a good bunch. Three officers, six non-commissioned officers, and thirty-six men. The officers are Reynold, Aneese, and Jenson. Ah, could I have the needle?’ Leliana dropped her basket and produced one of her two needles.

Núria stared at the thing. ‘That’s a weapon, not a needle.’

‘Lousy weapon,’ Isabela said. ‘Well, follow me.’ She led them into the belly of the ship into a large room. ‘My officers have rooms of their own, the men have a common room, and you get the stockroom.’

Zevran grinned. ‘I told you so. Don’t glare at me, Isabela, you know you’re breaking my heart.’

‘You don’t have a heart, Zevran,’ Isabela retorted lightly and without any asperity in her voice. ‘Make yourselves comfortable. Next night will be better.’

Núria eyed Jowan sceptically. He looked like he needed sleep and a hot meal. ‘Isabela … here is the money for our transport. I wonder where we could find something to eat, by the way.’

‘Oh, of course. The caboose is on deck, you can’t miss it. Plunder it, if and when you like.’ With that, she was gone.

Núria grabbed Zevran’s hand and dragged him up on deck again to let him lead her to the small den that served as a kitchen. They took cheese and bread mostly, and Zevran salvaged a handful of grapes, to bring them down to where the rest were waiting. By the time they reappeared Jowan was positively green in the face, while Leliana was talking to Morrigan in an undertone.

The witch handed her a small jar before she produced a few herbs from a pouch. She handed out a single leaf to all of them. ‘That should help with the sickness. Chew it slowly and spit out the fibres. You should be better after a few minutes, Jowan.’ The mage nodded at her gratefully and stuffed the leaf into his mouth. He contorted his face but chewed bravely, and Núria followed suit. It was both sour and bitter and rather disgusting, but if Morrigan insisted this helped, it probably would. She wasn’t sick so far, but that could still come.

Jowan’s complexion improved quickly, and he ate with the rest of them. Darkness fell slowly, and Núria stepped onto deck to get a good look at the sea at night. She didn’t know how long she had glanced at the smooth surface of the water, reaching endlessly into the west and east. ‘There’s a certain beauty to this manner of travel, isn’t it?’ a soft voice asked behind her. Gentle hands landed on her shoulders and a warm body pressed against her.

She leant back with a sigh. ‘You enjoy doing this. Sneaking up on me like that.’ She turned around, facing Zevran.

He gave her a smile that made her melt. ‘You shouldn’t be so easy to sneak up on, my love, but you’re a hopeless case where that is regarded.’ He leaned down to kiss her gently.

Her eyes shut at the simple touch, and she cuddled against his form. ‘Can you blame me for letting my guard down when I’ve got you near? Call it foolish, but it just feels as though nothing could harm me while you’re here.’

‘If that is true, you will always be safe, my love.’ His fingers brushed through her hair as he regarded her with half closed eyes, their bright colour prominent in the dark of night.

‘Zev … just how long will this journey take us?’ Núria asked, her arms wrapped around his waist. ‘I never gave it any thought, but when Isabela started enumerating countries …’

‘Quite a while,’ Zevran said. ‘Let me think. When I came to Ferelden, we landed in Denerim. That is much shorter a trip, but it took us almost a month. We had really bad wind, though, and the _Siren’s Call_ is a very fast ship. I would guess … Two or three months, perhaps? You should ask Isabela, though, she will know better.’

‘In perfect conditions, we might manage in forty days,’ a male voice said behind them. ‘But we will not have perfect conditions all the time, trust me.’ Núria disentangled herself from Zevran and looked at the man before her. His cheeks were covered by a black tangle of a beard flecked with grey, and his eyes were surrounded by a myriad of crinkles. ‘Jenson to your service. So you want to slay a dragon and ask a pirate for transportation. Interesting choice.’

Zevran smiled. ‘We’ve met before. You may remember me, I had some business with the previous owner of this vessel.’

A smirk formed on Jenson’s lips. ‘Indeed. Isabela was hardly bothered to disguise her triumph when her husband was dead. She won’t word it this way, but you did her a great service. The bugger got what he deserved.’

‘They often do. Forty days you say? That sounds optimistic.’

‘Well … If conditions remain so good, we’ll be in Ostwick in three days. Depending on when we arrive we can continue the same day or the next. We will have two longer stops in Rialto and Minrathous. A more realistic estimation might be two months, as you suggested.’

‘Rialto of all things,’ Zevran said. ‘I’d better stay low there or you’ll have all of Antiva trying to cut a bit off me.’

Jenson laughed. ‘Might happen. But don’t you worry, we’ll get you safely to your dragon. The Amaranthine Ocean is slightly stormy sometimes, but around this time of year we should be good. Trust an old salt.’

Ϡ

Slowly they all got used to life on a ship. Morrigan’s supply of leaves to settle the stomach never even got low. Until they reached Rialto, they made good speed. There, they stayed for two days before they set out again, crossing the bay for Dairsmuid, where they prepared for the longer journey around Rivain. Isabela insisted that they all take a look at the seaport that was her home. They needed two weeks to get to Seere, with the wind coming from the north. Isabela said they were tacking, but as far as Núria was concerned, they were simply crisscrossing with a lot of swaying involved. She could see Rivain off in the west and wondered if they could swim that far in case they got into serious distress. Isabela and her men seemed unconcerned, however, and after a while the wind turned, coming from the east now.

The climate changed considerably. Leliana was done making changes to the armour she had bought by the time they sailed by the White Spire, a high and stark white mountain east of the Arlathan Forest. Núria was more than happy to be able to change into something that wasn’t made for Fereldan weather.

Stepping on deck one morning, she spotted Leliana and Jowan by the railing, both sprayed wet and staring to the land to their south. They were passing between Tevinter and Seheron, she knew, having left Qarinus only the day before. ‘They Eyes of Nocen,’ Jowan said. ‘There were two large lighthouses on the two points of land here. Both were destroyed in the Battle of the Nocen Sea sometime into the Steel Age. Or so they say, for there’s not supposed to be a trace of a lighthouse. I’d like to take a look myself.’

‘Perhaps on the way back,’ Leliana said. ‘Did you think again about what Isabela said? About staying in Tevinter?’

Zevran walked up to Núria and was about to say something, when she laid her finger on his lips to silence him. He backed into the railing on the right and sat down, pulling Núria to the floor with him.

‘I’m not going to go back on my word now,’ Jowan said. ‘I mean to find those dragons with you.’

‘Yes, but when we return. It would probably be the safest thing for you to do.’

Jowan nodded slowly. ‘Probably, yes. But whether I want to stay in Tevinter or not, I have an obligation to the wardens. Weisshaupt is at least as safe, perhaps that would be better.’

‘Do you think your obligation will be as strong if there will never be a blight again?’ Leliana asked.

Jowan laughed softly. ‘Let’s face it, we don’t know that. And even so, the deep roads are still full of … things. Assuming Morrigan is right and they will all be free like that Architect, I guess there’ll be quite a few rather violent free darkspawn about. And they’ll want to get out into the open, perhaps. No, I don’t think I should leave before we know for sure.’

Leliana nodded. ‘I wonder if I will go back to Orzammar after we’re done. Like Zev, I can never in my life go home, but I got used to that a long time ago. He’s helping Núria in Vigil’s Keep. Perhaps I should ask her if she needs an archer to help her train soldiers.’

Jowan smiled. ‘I’m sure she’d like that.’

Leliana gave him a searching look. ‘Yes, well, but even though she’s the commander, I wonder how many people she’ll need that aren’t wardens. I quite enjoy this trip, though. Hmm, I guess Isabela might need another hand, what do you say? Especially as that old codger Reynold isn’t going to last forever. He hinted that he wants to leave sooner or later.’

‘I am sure you _could_ do that,’ Jowan said. ‘Do you want to? Spend your life at sea, as a pirate?’

‘It’s certainly an adventure. Or is there a reason why I shouldn’t want to stay with these people?’

‘I sure won’t,’ Jowan answered.

‘That … might be a reason,’ Leliana said carefully, and Jowan blinked at her before he closed the distance between them. Hesitantly, his left hand brushed a strand of hair out of Leliana’s face, lingering longer than was necessary. Her eyes closed, and she seemed to lean into the small touch.

‘Perhaps,’ Jowan said so softly that it was barely audible over the rush of water, ‘we should continue this conversation without an audience.’ Leliana’s eyes fluttered open, and Jowan gestured towards where Núria and Zevran sat on the ground.

‘You two!’ Leliana said with mock anger. ‘Fun to watch?’

‘Indeed,’ Zevran said. ‘Although if you hadn’t caught us it might have become more fun still.’ Leliana blushed. ‘What gave us away?’

‘I did,’ Núria explained. ‘He can sense me. As he can sense the darkspawn. I must say, I’m impressed. That took me longer.’

‘You’re not a mage,’ Jowan said. ‘I’m already used to feeling subtle things, it’s not too different.’

‘Hmm. Well, since you caught us, I can as well answer your question, Leliana. You would be very welcome in Vigil’s Keep. I could use more archers on the walls, and I have only one man who could teach them.’

Leliana beamed at her.

Ϡ

They stopped in Minrathous a few days later, and Núria thought she didn’t see right when her eyes saw the Circle Tower looming in the distance even before they reached the harbour. It wasn’t so much a tower as a castle. When they finally got there, she disembarked together with the others to get a better look at the structure.

Four towers reached above all the other buildings in the city, between them a vast fortress with a very flat dome. ‘However is this sustained?’ Leliana asked in awe.

‘Magic, I suppose,’ Morrigan said. ‘I wonder if we can get a look inside.’

Núria shrugged. They manoeuvred closer through narrow alleys, never losing sight of the towers. As they approached, they saw smaller domed portions of the castle, lower than the dome in the middle, forming a complex, contorted protrusion. They ended up before a magnificent portal.

‘No templars,’ Jowan noticed. ‘I could never quite believe it possible.’

Morrigan smirked. ‘A beaten dog cannot imagine freedom.’

‘I am not a dog.’

The door swung open and a woman in a robe looked at them. ‘ _Hwaris jus sijuth?_ ’

‘ _Ne_ ,’ Leliana replied quickly, shaking her head. ‘We … Do you speak Fereldan?’

The woman blinked. ‘Yes. What do you want from the Circle of Magi?’ The woman had barely a trace of an accent.

‘We just wanted to look at the … um …’ Jowan said timidly.

‘Tower,’ the Tevinter woman helped out. ‘I know the Circle Tower in Ferelden. Quite small, and rather too guarded.’

‘You don’t say,’ Morrigan said with a grin. ‘We admired that roof of yours, and we wanted to ask if we could take a look inside.’

The Tevinter mage stared at Morrigan. ‘A look inside? What an … unusual request. Now why would you want that?’

‘As Morrigan said, we admired your dome,’ Zevran said. ‘But if this is not possible, we will, of course, leave.’

The mage shook her head. ‘No, by all means. You can go into the Entrance Hall, just … don’t start running about the entire place. You would confuse people and probably get lost.’ She headed into the building before them, holding the door open.

Núria swallowed at the sight. Colonnades lined the walls to the right and left, leading right to the other side of the vast hall. Four large disks with strange symbols were somehow attached halfway up the wall. ‘Maker,’ Núria whispered. ‘What … are they?’

‘The names of the dragons that brought a blight,’ the mage said, ‘and the names of the wardens who slew them. The last is not finished yet.’

Núria blushed and Zevran chuckled. ‘Oh? Would you like a picture of her? There she is.’

The Tevinter mage looked solemnly at Núria. ‘I should have known. There is something about you. _Thagks, in namin Tevinters._ Thank you, in the name of Tevinter.’

‘I … _We_ did our duty,’ Núria said simply. ‘If you want to put a name on a shield, you have to put quite a few on it. I couldn’t have done anything alone.’

‘As could neither of your predecessors,’ Morrigan pointed out. ‘You were the one that slew the archdemon. If someone wants to honour that, let them.’

‘ _Skapjar sijáis mith izwis samana_ ,’ the Tevinter mage said with a small bow. ‘I must attend to my duties. If you wish to speak with someone, strike the gong.’

Núria glanced after her for a moment. ‘This is … slightly overwhelming. Can we please leave?’

Zevran patted her arm. ‘Yes, let us go back. Perhaps we can help Isabela with a few of her preparations. And soon our journey will be over, at least the part we take by ship. Let’s get out of this … monstrosity of a tower.’

‘Monstrosity,’ Jowan echoed. ‘It’s not a monstrosity, it’s beautiful.’

‘They have our _hahren_ ,’ Núria said sourly. ‘I’m not going to forget that any time soon.’

‘Oh yes, we should get out of here,’ Zevran said with raised eyebrows. ‘Before you decide to take on the entire Minrathous Circle. I do want to survive this day.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (( Riiight. Chapter heading first: Epica song.  
> On Geography: I do not sail, nor do I know anyone who does. My model ship was the Preußen, a full-rigged ship with five masts that managed 20 knots. We have four masts here, which would make it slower, and being in a non-modern setting we will have square sails which should make it harder to sail into the wind in a zigzagging line. What I did was assume a top speed of 15 knots, and assume that from West Hill to Sundarin is about as far as from Genoa to Saint Petersburg. There’s an online route planning software for sailing which helped me figure out the time required. The route around Europe would be Genoa - Barcelona - Malaga - Lisbon - Bilbao - Le Havre - Copenhagen - Stockholm - St Petersburg. Some of those stages are shorter than the respective ones in Thedas, but it will do. Assuming that at each stop you make rest for a while, the journey would take 38 days - again, at an optimum speed of 15 knots. I must say, I expected it to be a lot longer. My initial assumption in this calculation is, of course, that Thedas is about as large as Europe; it is, in fact, almost a mirror image to the route I chose. Only that Spain doesn’t have a bay in it like the Rialto Bay in Thedas  
> What we hear of Tevene, it sounds like something Latin-ish. But I wrote this before DA:II, so I didn’t know this, and Latin, to me isn’t at all exotic. So I took something that is and ended up trying to create a few Gothic sentences.  
> The few Gothic sentences in my text are:  
> Hwaris jus sijuth? → Who are you?  
> Ne. → No. (I figured Leliana of all people might manage to wrench one Tevene word from her mouth, even if it's not an adequate answer.)  
> Skapjar sijáis mith izwis samana. → Maker be with you all. I wouldn’t know how to form a noun from a word in Gothic, so Skapjar for Maker could be … oh, who cares, really?))  
>  


	26. O! Wanderers In The Shadow Land

Núria hadn’t expected the Donarks to be a pleasant place to stay in. She had known it would be hot and moist and generally unpleasant as far as climate was concerned. What she hadn’t expected was, for example, that dusk would only allow them half an hour to prepare for complete darkness. It couldn’t be late in the evening when for the first time night began to fall. With two mages among them, they saw no need to find a cave or some other shelter for their tents, but stayed in the open with another ward – one that would make quite a racket, as it were, since whatever might decide to attack them here was likely scared by loud noise.

Freak weather was not the most worrisome thing about the jungles, however. The night was filled with shouts of animals Núria couldn’t define, and as they travelled deeper into the forest, these sounds seemed to get to her. Her dreams were filled with shadows moving in an almost complete darkness, and sometimes a strange scraping noise could be heard as well. Whenever that came, she awoke with a start, sometimes finding all in a silence that was more frightening than the voices of animals.

Judging by Morrigan’s facial expression, she was concerned about something too. Her daughter cried a lot more and quite a bit louder than before, and Núria wondered what dreams like hers would do to a small child. ‘Núria … can I ask you something?’ Jowan prompted her and brought her out of her reverie.

‘Certainly.’

‘Can there be darkspawn here?’ he asked, looking from right to left as though he might spot one if he looked hard enough. ‘Or something related.’

‘What would be related to darkspawn?’

‘Something that is giving me nightmares. I don’t normally have nightmares. And it’s not the same as the darkspawn dreams, and I can’t sense any.’

‘That’s because none are here,’ Morrigan said behind them. ‘What you feel, I feel as well, and ‘tis certainly not darkspawn. Are any of you having nightmares?’

‘That would be an overstatement,’ Zevran said. ‘But I’ve slept better than I do here.’

‘Me too,’ Leliana said. ‘I have strange visions in my dreams, but they aren’t that bad. I suppose it’s the heat.’

‘’Tis certainly not the heat,’ Morrigan said coldly. ‘It seems that Jowan and I respond more strongly than the rest of you. ‘Twould mean that we have to do with some sort of magic.’

‘Whatever it is, I do not want to be taken into the Fade again,’ Núria said. ‘And the dreams remind me of that.’

Jowan answered in a hushed voice, as though he were worried someone might overhear them. ‘We won’t. It’s strange, always gives me the feeling I am intruding.’

‘Hmm,’ made Morrigan. ‘Have you ever used your blood magic to control someone’s mind?’

Jowan stared at her. ‘Of course not! And I am not going to, either, no matter what you say.’

‘Calm yourself, man, I wasn’t suggesting that. But then you could tell us if we _are_ actually intruding on something.’ She sighed. ‘Telepathy can be a dangerous thing. Most telepaths need to see the one whose mind they want to read, some even need to touch. Blood magic makes telepathy possible for any mage, but even the most foolish warrior can do it if he is … gifted with this special ability.

‘A powerful telepath cannot only read another’s mind, however, they can also speak in someone’s head – anyone’s head, actually. We might have to do with some sort of telepath here.’

‘Do you think there are people here?’ Núria asked in amazement. ‘No one can live here!’

Morrigan laughed. ‘How typically arrogant for a Fereldan. I do believe there are tribes of elves or humans here. But I am also sure we will never see them, even though they’re likely watching us. They might even have a spiritual leader who could be capable of such a means of communication. I doubt it, however.’

‘What then?’ Jowan asked. ‘We only get those … dreams at night, I don’t hear things now, except for those that are obviously real.’

Morrigan shook her head. ‘I am almost disappointed. You do not dream while you’re awake, obviously, but you asked if there is darkspawn because you sense something even now, didn’t you? I suggest the two of us attune to this feeling and try to find out where ‘tis coming from.’

‘You think this is one of the dragons,’ Zevran said suddenly.

Morrigan nodded appreciatively. ‘I see you’re not only pretty. Good to know.’

Ϡ

The next day they found the largest water filled cave so far. The ones they had seen before had been about as wide as Núria’s forearm was long, but this one’s diameter was at least two metres. The water inside it was very clear, and while the sun stood high they could see far down into the cave Morrigan called a cenote. ‘This might be what we are looking for,’ the witch said in an almost reverent tone. ‘We are close to our first target, I sense it.’

‘Hang on, are you suggesting that there is a dragon underwater?’ Jowan asked incredulously. ‘Aren’t dragons supposed to be fire-breathing creatures? How could it survive down there?’

‘I’ve seen two dragons so far, but only one breathed normal fire,’ Núria told him. ‘The archdemon breathed … something no less dangerous, but I wouldn’t know that it was quite the same.’

‘Besides, this dragon is not merely a dragon,’ Morrigan reminded Jowan. ‘We are facing a god, not an animal.’

Zevran knelt beside the water. ‘Or at least that’s what they say. Let’s assume that there is an Old God down this hole. How are we getting there? Or can you make us breathe underwater?’

Morrigan remained silent, so Zevran turned to look at her. ‘Truthfully, I do not know how exactly we can get there.’

Leliana laughed softly. ‘You were going to work out that problem when we faced it, were you? Since we can’t get to the dragon for obvious reasons, can we get it to come to us?’

‘Which would rule out the option to kill the thing while it’s sleeping,’ Zevran stated coolly.

‘Yes, well, perhaps it will still be a bit groggy,’ Leliana replied with a shrug.

Núria laughed. ‘I really don’t think so. Morrigan … In case we cannot get down in any other way than drowning ourselves, _can_ we call the Old God?’

‘Do you have a darkspawn at hand?’ the witch asked in reply. ‘No? In that case, I fear that might prove difficult. I might try, but I would rather attempt to find a way to it.’

‘A question,’ Jowan prompted. ‘I still doubt whether the dragon can live under water, so let’s assume there’s a dry spot somewhere down there with the dragon in it. Is there any way to find out how far we would have to dive? Perhaps it would be possible.’

Morrigan gave him an appraising look. ‘You’re not as stupid as you look after all. I could try and figure out the distance, I could even find out whether there is a path creatures as large as ourselves can take. It would, however, take me some time.’

‘Well, the sooner you get started, the better,’ Zevran told her.

‘I will have to control an animal to make it swim down the cave,’ Morrigan said. ‘If I want this to be of any use, I have to be in a kind of trance. What with an Old God trying to influence us at night, I need you to shield me from it.’

Jowan nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll do that.’

‘There is always a certain risk to such an endeavour,’ Morrigan said atypically softly and with a slight frown. ‘Should the animal die while I still control it, that might kill me as well. Having a daughter to take care of, you will understand that I have … reservations.’

‘I’d do it for you, but honestly, I wouldn’t know how to find the dratted thing,’ Jowan told her, scratching his head. Leliana frowned slightly but didn’t say anything.

‘I am aware of that,’ Morrigan told him coldly. ‘All I need to know is that someone will look after Darya if I am gone.’

‘No, we’ll leave her here by the cenote and go home,’ Zevran said, rolling his eyes.

‘I’ll take her,’ Jowan said quickly. ‘I’ll take care of Darya.’

Morrigan blinked and nodded. ‘Very well. In that case …’ The witch sat down cross-legged and placed Darya wrapped into a blanket next to her. Leliana picked her up and started pacing with the child in her arms while Jowan held his hand over Morrigan’s head in a horrible reminiscence of Isolde. But this time, no one died. It wasn’t very long before a lizard scurried down into the water, diving in snake-like motions, down, down, down, and out of sight. Núria had to remind herself to keep breathing. All was quiet but for the distant noises of the jungle. Morrigan and Jowan were motionless, both with their eyes shut tight and looks of concentration on their faces. Leliana held Darya in her arms, rocking her softly to keep her sleeping, but in the bard’s face the tension showed clearly. She exchanged a worried glance with Núria before she resumed her pacing.

It felt like ages before Morrigan stirred and Jowan relaxed. ‘From here we stand no chance,’ the witch said slightly breathlessly. ‘Perhaps from another cenote there is a way.’

‘So the solution is to drown innocent lizards until we find a path we can use or until you die,’ Zevran summed it up. ‘That doesn’t sound like a good plan to me.’

Ϡ

They made camp hastily beside their cenote when night began to fall. Núria kept glancing out of her and Zevran’s tent to see Morrigan kneeling beside the waterhole her arms stretched before her, the palms touching the water. ‘Don’t worry so much, she’ll figure out what to do,’ Zevran said softly, pulling Núria down onto the bedroll.

‘I’m just concerned that she’ll fall asleep and land in the cenote,’ Núria replied.

Zevran chuckled. ‘We’ll hear that, trust me. Do you know what she’s doing?’ Núria shrugged, settling against Zevran. ‘Ah, well, she’ll surprise us then. This was blood magic, wasn’t it? What they did to that lizard.’

‘Morrigan did,’ Núria corrected him. ‘What Jowan did was weird, but not blood magic.’ She sighed, sliding one arm around Zevran to caress his back. ‘You were right, you know? About my judgement.’

Close as he was, Núria felt the laughter rippling through his body. ‘Of course I was. I should know you by now.’ Zevran leaned down to kiss Núria deeply, his hand finding her breast.

‘Zev, Morrigan is out there and …’ she began, blushing crimson.

‘And in some sort of trance,’ Zevran finished her sentence. ‘And if she were in a tent she’d hear us just as well as out in the open.’ Núria closed her eyes and decided she didn’t care. Her hand travelled down Zevran’s side, but before it could get very far, a splashing noise and a shriek came from outside. Zevran didn’t even jump, but he started shaking with laughter. ‘Your predictions are just as good as your judgement,’ he claimed. ‘Let’s see if she needs help.’ Zevran rose gracefully and slipped out of the tent in his smallclothes. Núria followed after she had put on her breeches and tunic.

By the time she got to the cenote, Zevran had helped an enraged Morrigan out of the cold water. ‘Hasn’t you mother taught you not to sleep leaning over cenotes?’ Zevran asked her with a smirk.

‘I wasn’t sleeping, fool.’ Jowan and Leliana had both approached too, the latter slightly flushed. ‘ _You_ ,’ Morrigan said angrily, pointing a finger at Jowan. ‘You must have realised what’s happening.’

Jowan went crimson. ‘I didn’t. I felt something, but I …’ He cast a sideways glance at Leliana. ‘It didn’t reach me as well as it reached you, whatever it was.’

‘You are a mage, you’re supposed to be reached by it,’ Morrigan said angrily. ‘Unless you shielded yourself, which would be a stupid thing to do if we want to find the Old God.’

‘I swear, I didn’t shield myself,’ Jowan told her fervently. ‘At least not consciously.’

‘Look, why don’t you just tell us what happened, apart from the obvious,’ Leliana asked Morrigan in a slightly angry tone.

Morrigan turned her gaze from Jowan to Leliana. ‘Might you by any chance have caused a distraction from what is really the point of us being here?’

Jowan glared at her. ‘Talking about what is the point, what happened? Did the dragon do something to you?’

‘No. It’s sleeping, it cannot do anything. But I know where we can find it. Or rather, how.’ A meaningful look was on her face, and Núria waited patiently for about half a second.

‘So?’ she asked then. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Nowhere,’ Morrigan told her briskly. ‘We’re close enough. Do you trust me?’ Núria stared at her for a moment before she nodded. ‘And Jowan as well?’

‘Of course,’ Núria asked with a slight frown. ‘Why?’

Morrigan took a deep breath and got to her feet. ‘Obviously, we cannot walk up to the Old God and do away with it. At least not physically. So we have to find it on another level. Since it can so easily influence Jowan and me, ‘tis only logical that we can do the same to it.’

‘Do you mean by entering the Fade?’ Núria asked, dreading the answer.

‘As I told you once, no. This is different. If I wanted to enter the Fade, one of us would have to die, as you know, or else we would have to be at least ten mages. What I would like to attempt is to forge a mental connection between all of us. If then Jowan and I for once allow the strange mind to control us, we will find the dragon in the end and face it … in whatever way that might be.’

‘I’m not sure if that sounds comforting,’ Zevran said. ‘You couldn’t elaborate, could you?’

‘What she says makes sense,’ Jowan claimed. ‘We let the dragon find us, we’ll end up in the same place this way or that. And the dragon won’t be any more awake, because it isn’t looking for us in its waking mind but in its sleep. I wouldn’t dare to claim it won’t be able to defend itself at all, but certainly not like a dragon that is awake.’

Morrigan nodded. ‘And we will not be fighting a physical being. We will destroy the mind of the creature, thereby killing its body.’

‘That sounds a lot more like rape than like killing an animal,’ Leliana said with a frown.

‘How is that worse than murder?’

‘Of course it’s worse!’ Leliana said.

‘We are talking about a creature that will be mentally raped by darkspawn unless we kill it first,’ Zevran explained calmly. ‘What we intend to do will be quicker and cleaner than that.’

Leliana sighed. ‘Right. Do you wish to wait and prepare yourselves, or can we do it at once? Wouldn’t it be better if we started in the morning so we’re all properly awake?’

Jowan smiled. ‘That won’t make a difference. You don’t tire easily if you’re acting independently of your body. And this will be no more dangerous than it would have been if we had found a dry cave with the creature in it.’

‘Perhaps,’ the bard replied in a slightly higher voice than was usual, ‘but it’s so unfamiliar. Is this really a safe way to deal with the dragon?’

Jowan shrugged. ‘As safe as any other way.’

‘For us perhaps, but what about you or Morrigan? She thought it would be dangerous to control the lizard. Won’t this be worse?’

‘We will all be in some amount of danger,’ Jowan explained. ‘We will expose ourselves to the Old God, and the only reason why we can dare to do that at all is because it is sleeping. What Morrigan did … sending an animal she controlled into almost certain death … You must imagine it like this. Her mind, her essence, was inside a creature that was going to die. So if she couldn’t get out of it in time, she would have been in danger. We will certainly not be inside the Old God. We will face it on neutral ground, so to speak. I cannot tell you what we have to expect, but this way our chances of managing to kill it before it notices us are a lot greater than if five people with a baby and a mabari march up to it trying to be stealthy.’

Leliana took a deep breath. ‘Well, in that case we should perhaps get this behind us sooner rather than later.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Chapter Heading is the first line of a Tolkien poem from the Lord of the Rings.))


	27. Exodus

Núria gazed wistfully into their small fire. Morrigan had thrown a variety of herbs into one of the pots after filling it with water, and now she was cooking it slowly and accompanied by constant muttering. Jowan had explained that she was creating some kind of potion that would allow them all to interact with the Old God on a spiritual level. It seemed to take ages until she was done, but finally she removed the pot and returned it to where the others were waiting. Zevran glanced into it and screwed up his face. ‘We’re not supposed to drink this, are we?’

‘Don’t be so squeamish,’ Morrigan said briskly. ‘It doesn’t taste exactly good, but it won’t kill you.’

‘It smells like it could.’

Morrigan ignored him pointedly. ‘This draught will support the trance, but first we have to join our minds, or we might have difficulty finding each other. We are all familiar with the Fade. It is a world separate from this one, with a veil in between. This veil, however fragile, is a kind of realm of its own, and the most dangerous one there is. Imagine yourself in one room, and you have to get into another room, far away from yours. In between, there is a long dark labyrinth, in which you cannot see further than a step. You would very easily get lost should you enter unprepared, your chances of finding your way through would be more than dim. Finding someone else, who would enter from a room of their own, would be at least as hard.

‘Preparing yourself for the journey means that you have to go to sleep and to have someone who can help you, like a mage. Sleep with lyrium or blood magic would show you the path you have to take, and your journey would be safe and fast enough not to feel like a journey at all.

‘Now we are going to go without sleeping, and we do not seek to actually cross the labyrinth. We want to get into it through the same door rather than six separate ones – Ivanhoe will have to watch us in this world. And we have guidance: Darya. Still, it will be dangerous. There are sometimes travellers that got lost, some that are seeking for something of their own. The lost ones, if they have been in the Veil for too long, might be aggressive, seeking to distract us or keep us in between as well. Some might also be benevolent and try to guide us. But other than in the Fade, it is hard to tell them apart, and not to trust whatever entity we chance to encounter would be wisest.’

‘Question,’ Leliana said. ‘I trust you that Darya will lead us to the dragon. But will she be able to guide us back to our door?’

‘Any child would find back,’ Morrigan said with a mysterious smile. ‘They also find into the Fade without sleeping.’ The witch held her hand above her concoction and nodded. ‘Well it’s cooled down enough. Shall we?’

She looked at Núria, who felt herself nod almost despite herself. She hadn’t understood half of what Morrigan had said, but it seemed she wasn’t going to find out anything more without diving in. Suddenly something occurred to her. ‘One more thing. If the dragon is sleeping, why is it not in the Fade but in that … Veil-realm?’

‘Because all things in the Fade cast a shadow into the Veil, a kind of trace by which you find your way back into wakefulness,’ Morrigan explained. ‘Once we cut this trace, the dragon dies.’

‘Yet another danger about the Fade I didn’t know of,’ Zevran said with raised eyebrows. ‘Imagine you’re sleeping and someone just decides to do away with you. Would be a good method, though.’

Morrigan frowned at him. ‘As I told you before, we can only find the Old God because we have Darya. Anyone trying to find something as small and inconspicuous as yourself would get lost forever before standing a chance.’

Núria raised her hands. ‘Enough. Morrigan … Oh, never mind. I guess we will be able to communicate?’

Morrigan nodded. ‘Indeed.’ She produced a small knife and cut into her palm, letting a few drops of her blood fall into the pot.

‘Ah, I was wondering about that,’ Jowan said. ‘There are other ways to keep in contact, you know. There’s a ritual, I believe, not quite as complicated as the one they use to allow someone to enter the Fade, and you don’t need lyrium. Nor blood.’

‘I know,’ Morrigan said. ‘But I have no wish to spend the next two hours dancing around the fire.’

‘Would be worth the sight, though,’ Zevran said, taking the small knife from Morrigan and letting a few drops of his own blood fall into the potion.

‘There’s no dancing involved,’ Jowan replied, rolling his eyes. ‘Oh, never mind then.’ He held out his hand to take the knife from Zevran. For a moment he stared at it with a haunted look in his eyes, but then he glanced to his left where Leliana was sitting on the soft ground, and it left him as quickly as it had come. His eyes were still on her when he cut into his hand.

Ϡ

For a moment after she had first tasted the mixture of herbs and blood, Núria had to fight the urge to spit it out again. It was bitter and sharp and generally disgusting, but she swallowed bravely and ignored the revulsion. She heard Zevran say something, but his words were drowned by the world starting to revolve around her. She tried to keep focussed on her surroundings and managed to register Morrigan sitting on her haunches with her eyes shut. Núria lay down on the ground quickly before she could fall.

Next she knew, the world had gone black, and she was in the middle of that void. For a moment she felt like panicking, but then there was another presence, and although there was nothing to see of it, it felt like Zevran. Only a moment later she found Morrigan. Knowing what she had to look for, Núria tried to find Jowan and Leliana, and indeed there they were. At last, there was another presence, a pure and _white_ one. Only now Núria found that all the others felt like colours as well, Morrigan a deep red, Zevran purple, Jowan and Leliana bluish. A voice told her to concentrate on Darya’s presence and never allow anything to distract her. That didn’t seem too difficult at first, as there was nothing in the black void that could catch her attention. Then, suddenly, there was. Shifting colours, a little like an aurora borealis, drifted in and out of her vision, trying to lure her away from the guiding light that was Morrigan’s daughter. ‘Don’t,’ Morrigan’s strangely soundless voice said directly in her mind. ‘That is a traveller. Not one that seeks our attention, I’d think, but best be careful and don’t draw close.’

Núria wondered what they would look like to the other traveller: A bunch of colourful spots, as she perceived themselves, or something different entirely? For the strange traveller was certainly not a single coloured being. ‘Is that one person or more?’

Morrigan gave the mental version of a shrug. As they followed Darya, the surrounding darkness seemed to get denser after a while. The Northern Lights became dim until they were barely visible, and there was something both ahead and around them that cast a shadow so black nothing that was covered by it could be seen. A surge of panic from Darya – who was nothing more than a small child, Núria reminded herself, whatever Morrigan tried to convince them of – seemed to blind her, but again, she managed to shut that out. One of the bluish lights, however, did get distracted by this strong emotion, only for a moment. A slight sense of annoyance radiated from it, and something like laughter came from the other.

‘Cut it out,’ Morrigan told them angrily.

Núria forced herself not to be too amused herself. ‘Is this it?’ she asked instead, and Morrigan signalled that this was indeed true. ‘Which one? Night, I guess, whatever the name was?’

‘Lusacan,’ Morrigan said, ‘but we do not know that yet.’

‘I know how to use weapons, but what are we going to do now?’ Zevran asked.

‘Well, you did realise that we are all still separate beings, yes? We are going to invade the shadow of the dragon. There we have to find something that ties the creature to the world, the trace I described to you before. What this is going to look like, I do not know. But we must be careful lest we wake the beast.’

Ϡ

Entering the sphere of the dragon was like stepping into a different world. There were some resemblances of things in reality, but they seemed chaotic and shifting and strangely misplaced. There was a distorted image of the Circle Tower of Minrathous, one of the towers missing, a silken scarf drifting past it, carried by an impalpable wind. Voices could be heard, talking in the strange tongue of Tevinter, and then, suddenly, there was a sound that could be either laughter or crying, and Darya, who, like all of them, was no longer a bright spot but a shifting, shady image of herself, seemed drawn to it, stretching her arms into its general direction and grabbing at thin air. Morrigan held her back and frowned.

‘My guess is, we’ve found the dragon’s ties to the world,’ Jowan said.

This was, Núria found, a little like the Fade, at last, even though it seemed a lot less real. There at least it had been possible to orient yourself on your surroundings. Here, they had no such luck: The laughter was coming from somewhere past the Circle Tower, it seemed, but even though they were getting closer to the voice, the Tower remained at the same distance. ‘Some pirates punish captives by throwing them into the sea, I’ve heard,’ Jowan commented. ‘Swimming through an ocean towards a lighthouse must be a lot like that.’

‘ _Look_ ,’ Leliana said so suddenly and emphatically, Núria spun with her hands at her weapons. A moment later, she realised how pointless that was. ‘There, under the back left tower.’ Núria stared at the point Leliana had indicated, and indeed, there was something – or rather, someone. Two children were there, seeming a lot smaller against the building than they should in real life, and now that Núria walked towards something visual, she could approach them as well as the Circle Tower.

They were, it turned out, a boy and a girl, and they were twins. They were within an inch of each other’s height and couldn’t be older than five. The boy was playing in the sand, looking at the arrivals without concern. The girl looked more serious than any child at that age should. ‘Have you been fed to it as well?’ she asked them.

Núria stared. ‘Have we been … what? Have you? Been fed to the dragon?’

The girl nodded.

‘How horrible!’ Leliana exclaimed.

‘I would say that you should not take feeding literally,’ Morrigan said thoughtfully. ‘I would assume that these two are the link we are looking for. They are what we have to take from the dragon.’

‘By which you mean killing them,’ Jowan said with a slight frown.

Leliana glared at him. ‘Must you say that in front of them?’

‘They’re not children, Leliana, not really,’ Jowan told her. ‘They have been trapped here for an eternity. Physically they’re exactly as they were when they were sacrificed. Mentally, they’ll have grown up. Is that true?’

The girl nodded again, and Núria saw that the mage was right. Those weren’t the eyes of a child. ‘Are you dead in the physical world?’ she asked.

‘Yes, but it doesn’t matter,’ the boy answered, finally looking up at her.

Morrigan spun slowly, as if she tried to find something other than what they could see in their immediate vicinity. ‘Are you the only people here?’

‘Until just now, we were,’ the girl confirmed. ‘You are here to destroy the dragon, and to do that, we have to be gone.’

‘We can’t kill children,’ Leliana said loudly. ‘We just can’t!’

The girl cocked her head with a wistful look. ‘No? Why?’

‘First, because I have no clue how to kill anything here at all,’ Zevran said softly.

‘Zevran, how can you?’ Leliana asked him.

‘You need the sword from the tower,’ the girl told Zevran, looking entirely unconcerned.

The assassin knelt before her. ‘Do you wish to die? Have you been trapped too long?’

‘There is nothing here,’ the boy said. ‘Only sand and stuff, but no life.’

‘Still …’ Leliana said softly. ‘This is so … crude.’

The girl blinked up at her, walking towards the bard with her arm purposefully outstretched.

The moment the child’s hand made contact with Leliana’s, a jolt went through the Orlesian, her eyes went wide, and she stood frozen. Jowan made an instinctive step towards her but was restrained by Morrigan. A second later, the contact broke, and Leliana blinked tears away. ‘They were taken out of their mother’s arms and brought into the Circle Tower. They … did something to them, I don’t know what it was, but it was brutal. And … they were mages.’

Núria’s eyebrows shot up at that revelation. ‘Really?’

Morrigan nodded. ‘It makes sense. What they did was certainly blood magic, and definitely cruel. And now you wish freedom?’ The girl looked at the witch and nodded. Núria stared at the girl, trying and failing to see a trapped person rather than an innocent child, offering willingly to be slaughtered. ‘You do understand that this is for the greater good?’ Morrigan asked Núria, sensing her thoughts. ‘When the darkspawn find the Old God, nothing of these two will remain. And do not be fooled, one day Razikale and Lusacan will rise again. Which one is this, by the way?’

‘We were given to Lusacan,’ the boy said, ‘but others were given to other gods.’

‘I assumed as much,’ Morrigan said. ‘Can you sense how many others there are?’

‘Two more of us still exist,’ the girl said, ‘and they are with Razikale. But you cannot reach them.’

Morrigan frowned. ‘And why would that be? I could find you, after all.’

‘Because we cannot, either,’ the girl said. ‘Even though they are not gone.’

‘We’ll see about that. Núria … the last word is, as always, yours. What do you say?’

Núria swallowed. ‘Leliana … how bad was it?’

‘Bad enough,’ the bard said firmly. ‘I don’t know anything this could be compared to, but trust me, this is not a life I would choose over death.’

‘Nor I,’ Zevran said with a slight frown. He manoeuvred towards the Circle Tower, and the gates opened on their own accord. ‘I’m not going to be trapped in there, right?’ he asked but entered without waiting for an answer.

He emerged a while later with empty hands. ‘My guess is you have to be a mage to find whatever weapon there is.’

Morrigan rolled her eyes and walked past him with a disdainful look on her face. She returned only a moment after the doors had closed behind her with a sword in her hand.

‘You have to leave now,’ the boy told them as she approached. ‘You do not know what will happen when you’re in here while the tie is severed.’

‘Who is to say that you will do this?’ Morrigan asked. ‘It’s not like you didn’t have time for that yet.’

‘We cannot enter the Tower,’ the girl explained. ‘The Tevinters placed a weapon in it, but it was never for us to use.’

Morrigan nodded and handed the sword to the girl. ‘We will come back if you break your word.’ As she started guiding them out of the dragon’s sphere, rather than drifting away again, the surroundings just faded. The moment they were back in the darkness, the sphere, still not actually visible but obviously there, became smaller, until it exploded in a blinding flash. Núria’s last thought before the impact was that she hoped it wouldn’t separate them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Exodus is a song by Evanescence, and I think it fits. This is another display of my Myst-trauma. I named an earlier chapter Curtains because of one scene from Myst IV - Revelation. One thing you have to do is deal with in that game are travellers in a dream world.))


	28. Final Destination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Another Within Temptation title.))

Núria awoke with a jolt and jumped to her feet at once. For a moment she felt dizzy, but she caught herself quickly. Zevran was on his feet as well, wearing a frown. ‘Now what was that?’ he muttered. ‘I thought we were going to get lost.’

‘Me too,’ Núria said.

‘ _Jowan_ ,’ Leliana said suddenly, and Núria spun around. Jowan and Morrigan were both on the floor and unconscious. Darya was next to her mother, crying softly, but looking otherwise unharmed. While Leliana knelt next to Jowan, placing his head in her lap, Ivanhoe trotted to Morrigan to lick over her face a few times.

‘At least someone looks after her,’ Núria commented with a crooked smile. ‘Is he fine, Leliana?’

‘I think so, but I’m not a healer,’ the bard responded softly.

‘Get out of my face, horrible mutt,’ an angry voice said, and Ivanhoe retreated from Morrigan with a high, sad sound.

‘Are you all right?’ Núria asked her, patting Ivanhoe’s head in passing.

‘Yes. One down, one remaining.’ She knelt and picked up her daughter, rocking her lightly.

‘Could you please look at him?’ Leliana asked from where she was sitting.

Morrigan gave her a disdainful look. ‘I could. Oh, well, if you insist.’ Unwillingly, she knelt beside the other mage and looked him over. Finally she held her hand over his face, and Jowan awoke with a start as though she had poured ice-cold water over his head.

‘Interesting,’ he said, sitting up and rubbing his temples. He gave Leliana a worried glance. ‘You feeling well?’

Leliana smiled at him and nodded.

‘Oh, you’re worse than those two,’ Morrigan said, gesturing towards Núria and Zevran.

The Antivan grinned. ‘So what now? We wander through this horrible jungle a while longer, then we do the same thing again?’

‘Not quite,’ Morrigan replied briskly. ‘We’ll stay here, and when Darya has found the other Old God, we’ll know. That is enough, as we’re not going to try and find it physically. This is a lot better.’

‘And it will be the same story? We find the two children and ask them to cooperate?’

‘Indeed, and most likely, they will,’ Morrigan replied, walking away slowly with Darya in her arms. ‘Now if you will excuse me, I need a few more herbs.’

Núria caught Jowan’s eye and found she didn’t quite like his expression. ‘You have doubts?’

The mage took a deep breath. ‘Yes. I doubt it will be all the same, it might be wiser to start this journey as we did the first: Knowing nothing of what we have to expect but prepared for everything.’

‘Like what?’ Zevran asked sceptically. ‘What makes you doubt this will go smoothly?’

‘For one thing … I have no idea at all what the Tevinters did to those children. But whatever it was, it killed them, physically, and trapped their spirits in something less than the Fade. That alone is a reason to be careful in that sphere and with those that are forced to live in it. Second, the other two said they had no contact with the ones that are with Razikale, and they made it sound as though that was a fairly new development. If something caused them to lose the contact, I sincerely wonder what that is and if that makes any difference for us.’

‘I think we should tell Morrigan this,’ Leliana said. ‘We can barely let her walk into something unpredictable without warning her.’

Jowan smiled. ‘Morrigan knows this as well as I do. Perhaps she doesn’t want to see it. But I assure you she is perfectly aware of all the possibilities.’

‘Or perhaps she just wants us to believe all will go as easily as before,’ Leliana mused. ‘I wonder why.’

Jowan shrugged. ‘I think you should know. There’s some very powerful magic at work, and I cannot even begin to imagine how this was done. We were nearly separated when the first sphere died. I will try and stop that from happening again, and I will try and keep us protected. Morrigan, Darya, and myself, I mean. The last moments of the dragon were rather … vivid.’

‘You two were unconscious because you’re mages, is that right?’ Leliana asked gently.

‘Exactly. Darya wasn’t affected as strongly as we were for some reason, but still. She is still so small … It must have been horrible for her.’

Leliana gave Jowan a fond smile for this. ‘What are you going to do if Morrigan dies? Will you give Darya to the tower? I take your remark about protecting her to mean the child is a mage.’

Jowan’s expression darkened slightly. ‘You know, I’ve been thinking about this ever since the thing with the lizard. What _if_ Morrigan dies? And what would I of all people do with a little mage at my hands?’ He smiled vaguely. ‘But no matter how often I think it through, the answer is always the same: I’d bring her there with my own hands, before the templars could take her by force, and I’d beg Aisling to look after her for me. And … as long as I’d think I could do so without risking my neck … I’d visit her. But as long as she didn’t show conspicuous signs of magic I’d not let her out of my hands. And I am not going to tell Morrigan any of this.’

Leliana nodded slowly. ‘That sounds good. Also I wouldn’t tell what sort of child she actually is.’

Jowan huffed. ‘Certainly not. The tower is a hard enough place to grow up in as is. If the templars know she isn’t only a mage … See, I _have_ to visit her at all costs. I have to make sure she doesn’t grow up feeling only resentment … Imagine what kind of power she could wield. I find the thought that such power resides in an angry, broken soul more than frightening.’

Núria smiled. ‘What happened to the scared thing I met in that dungeon? The one who wouldn’t even risk following me through the castle.’

Jowan tore his eyes from Leliana. ‘No idea,’ he said with a serious and set expression. ‘Probably got eaten by zombies.’ Finally a smile formed on his face. ‘About Razikale, though … What I _think_ is that something is very wrong with him and the children. I don’t know what that is, of course, but my guess is … he isn’t as deep in sleep as Lusacan was. We will be more easily detected, and we might meet resistance. We … Morrigan and myself, must be prepared to kill the children with our own hands. And the surest way for them to make that hard would be to act like actual children. I … do not know how I am supposed to do this.’

‘Why you?’ Zevran asked. ‘We are two assassins here. Or can we not wield the sword in the sphere?’

Jowan shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ He threw his arms into the air in frustration. ‘I don’t know anything, I’m guessing! It just might be. I’ve heard of mages fighting in plate mail and with swords, but I also know that I never could. I’m not strong enough.’

‘Perhaps it’s not about strength,’ Leliana mused. ‘Perhaps there is a spell that gives you the strength? I mean … you can channel magic through a staff with the right properties. Can you not perhaps … channel it through a sword, not to cast a spell, but to use it like a normal fighter would?’

Jowan glanced at her with his eyes narrowed. ‘Could be worth an attempt. Hang on … let me scrape together what I know of this. The Tevinters had … what were they called? I’ve forgotten. But how they did it no one knows – at least they don’t teach it at the tower.

‘There is a spell that makes lifting heavy things easier. And … Leorah did that differently, I recall. She didn’t cast a spell on something, she’d carry it and as you said channelled her magic into the object.’

Zevran drew the lighter one of his two swords and offered it to Jowan. ‘Try, if you like.’ Clumsily, the mage took hold of the pommel. ‘Hold it with the point up. I’ll show you some basic moves. When the sword starts feeling heavy just try out whatever spell you have in mind.’

‘I don’t know,’ Jowan said softly, glancing at the blade in his hands with some apprehension. ‘If I cannot even breathe, perhaps a sword isn’t the right thing for me.’

Zevran laughed, drawing his other sword. ‘Come on, my sweet mage, I’ll be gentle,’ he said in a lascivious tone.

Jowan snorted. ‘Right. Bring it on.’

Núria and Leliana sat next to each other, watching. After a short while, Jowan took a step backwards from Zevran panting. He closed his eyes in concentration, and a slight glow seemed to come from his hands for a moment. ‘He wields it like a bastard sword,’ Leliana observed in a soft voice, smiling slightly. ‘But you know, I’ve seen worse.’

‘But what he’s doing seems to work,’ Núria commented. ‘For a mage he certainly has stamina. Good on you.’

‘I can hear you!’ Jowan called from the distance, and both Núria and Leliana laughed. ‘Give me a second Zevran, perhaps if …’ He fell silent and rested the tip on the floor on the soft ground, his eyes shut again. For almost a minute he didn’t move, his face not so firmly set as before but relaxed as though he were sleeping. Núria barely dared breathe, wondering whatever he was doing imperceptibly for them. Then, slowly, his eyes opened again, and he lifted up the sword with one hand. He gave Zevran a nod, and somehow the fighting seemed a lot more graceful. Zevran went at him a little more quickly, and Jowan adjusted to his pace.

‘Not half bad for a mage,’ Zevran commented, and Jowan grinned. ‘How are you doing it?’

‘It’s simple really,’ Jowan answered. ‘Perhaps a little unorthodox. I did what Leliana suggested … Channel magic into the sword like a staff. I cannot fling magic through it, because there’s no magic forged in the blade, but because I put some of mine into it I can use it as though it were practically weightless. It’s not a spell to give me strength, but one where I don’t need any. Or some such thing, it’s hard to explain.’

Zevran lowered his weapon. ‘I could teach you how to fight with a sword. If the templars ever have the nerve to come after you, it would give them a pause to see you come back at them with a weapon. Perhaps they couldn’t undo you as quickly as they did in the tailor’s shop.’

Jowan laughed humourlessly, returning Zevran’s sword to the assassin. ‘They could. They can do that to any mage. But I could at least hurt them back as long as I’m conscious. They are hard to affect by magic. You would really teach me?’

Zevran clapped his shoulder. ‘I certainly will. But I think we should not start serious training here, nor with sharp weapons.’

‘Since when does a mage with any pride wish to fight with a sword?’ Morrigan asked, entering their camp again.

‘The Tevinter Imperium had mages that did that,’ Leliana told her.

Morrigan snorted. ‘I wouldn’t have expected you to parrot things you don’t know anything about. I watched this sorry display for a while. Do you think if you style yourself as an Arcane Warrior they’ll forget you’re also a blood mage? Or are you doing it to forget it yourself?’

Jowan folded his arms before his chest. ‘You know what? I don’t need your consent or approval. Once we’re done here you’ll slink into your marshes or wherever you live and I’ll go to Vigil’s Keep with the others. I didn’t hear them ridiculing me, so why would I care a fig for your opinion?’

Morrigan blinked at him. ‘Who would have thought you’d grow a backbone? Good, you’ll need it if you wish to fight up close.’ Jowan simply shook his head.

‘You have your herbs, I guess?’ Núria asked. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

Ϡ

This time it wasn’t so hard for her to swallow Morrigan’s disgusting concoction. Orientating herself in the darkness came more naturally, too, and they found the sphere with no problems. The moment they were in it, it was clear that Jowan had been right: This wasn’t the same. Where there had been no landscape but only the Minrathous tower in Lusacan’s sphere, there was a forest here. Not a jungle like the Donarks, but a forest like you found it further in the south, less dense with flowers and the heavy smell of their bloom in the air. It was a beautiful place, entirely peaceful and not a dreary, empty cage. There was no sound, however, nothing indicating where the twins might be.

They travelled in silence for a while, Jowan and Leliana’s hands joined. The bard looked peaceful, but Jowan couldn’t quite hide his unease. ‘I don’t buy it,’ he said at last. ‘There’s something watching us, I know it. We shouldn’t follow Darya to the children yet. We must first find the weapon.’

‘For once, I agree with you,’ Morrigan said. ‘Perhaps this isn’t as simple as we hoped.’

‘How are we supposed to find anything here?’ Leliana asked. ‘This place could be endless.’

‘I think I know where we have to go,’ Morrigan told her. ‘Jowan, did you sense what was coming from the Circle Tower with the sword?’

‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘A presence. As though someone was in the building. But there wasn’t a person, there was a sword.’

‘Or both,’ Morrigan suggested. ‘If the Tevinters could trap children in a dragon’s dream, perhaps they could trap a third being in a blade.’

Jowan stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her. ‘This would be horrible! But perhaps that is why it could kill them … Oh Maker, I don’t like this one bit.’

‘You’re rather fussy for a blood mage,’ Morrigan commented. ‘You weren’t so far from this.’

‘Blood magic isn’t necessarily used for evil, like what the Tevinters did,’ Jowan said emphatically. ‘This just seems so gratuitous.’

‘Evil is a strong word, Jowan,’ Zevran said. ‘Perhaps they thought they could awaken the Old Gods? Then for them the sacrifice must have looked small.’

‘Whatever their motives, for us this is helpful, because we can find the weapon,’ Morrigan said briskly. ‘And Darya indeed senses the children elsewhere.’

‘Elsewhere,’ Zevran muttered. ‘Is there any way at all to orient oneself here?’

‘Only by magic,’ Jowan said. ‘Or at least I think so.’

Núria had no other choice than to trust the two mages to know what they were doing. For what seemed an eternity she followed them through the forest, hoping to find another image of the Circle Tower in Minrathous somewhere. When Morrigan did come to a halt, however, it was before a large dead tree. They walked around it, but there was no opening in the almost black wood. At last Morrigan handed Darya to Jowan and transformed into a large bird of prey to fly on top of it – and indeed, she disappeared inside the large tree for a moment, returning with a sword between her claws. She landed before the others.

Jowan eyed the weapon carefully. ‘I wonder how credible we will be to the twins when we say we mean no ill.’

‘You won’t,’ a cold voice said.

Núria spun around and froze. There was no need to look for the twins: The children had found them.

 

 


	29. Mortuus in anima

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((The chapter heading is taken from a piece of the Carmina Burana, namely Estuans Interius. In the song someone is referring to himself as a person with a dead soul. I considered changing it into Mortua, which would be the feminine form, but I didn’t want to lay hands on the quote even for the sake of context.))

Núria could hardly suppress her shock when she saw the children. In Lusacan’s sphere, they had looked somewhere between indifferent and depressed. Those however … The boy seemed defiant – a sentiment Núria could understand, considering Morrigan was standing next to her with a sword in her hand and a challenging look. The girl however … Evil _was_ a strong word, and she was very aware that it most certainly wasn’t the right one, but it was the first that came to her mind all the same.

‘We are here to stop the dragon from sending armies of monsters into the world,’ Núria said. ‘Every time one of the Old Gods wakes from their sleep, they bring death and destruction. Surely you understand I am doing what I must.’

‘Death and destruction?’ the girl repeated. ‘Aren’t you here to bring that to us?’

‘How could something so pure as Razikale bring death?’ the boy asked his sister. ‘He brings secrets and wonders to his own.’

‘When Razikale wakes up, he will not be himself,’ Núria explained. ‘His soul will be controlled by foul, mindless creatures, and he will do their will, not his own.’

‘You killed Lusacan, and now you seek the death of Razikale, trying to convince us of your good intentions with vile lies,’ the girl stated without any anger in her voice – or fear, for that matter. ‘We will not allow it! Razikale is the last, and he will live.’ With a blink of an eye, they were all frozen. She walked up to Morrigan and took the sword out of her unresisting hands.

‘What if they speak the truth?’ the boy asked his sister, placing his hand on her wrist. ‘What if they try to protect themselves, like our people did when we were brought here?’

‘So you believe their sordid tales?’ she asked, still without any emotion in her voice. ‘You really think that Razikale would harm our home?’

The boy shrugged. ‘We have been here for too long. Return the sword to them. If time can change this place and us, it sure can change Razikale.’

Finally, the girl lost her patience. Her eyes narrowed and she stared at her brother with a pierce glare. ‘Time never changed this place. How dare you suggest what formed our new home was anything but our master’s will? You are weak. I will defend him on my own, if I must.’ With that, she swung the sword as though it were weightless, cutting her own brother’s head off remorselessly. Then, without a backwards glance, she ran away at impossible speed.

Slowly, the magic binding Núria and the others lifted, and they could move again.

‘So what is our plan B?’ Zevran asked Morrigan. ‘Now that we’ve established this isn’t going to be just the same again.’

‘We follow her, of course.’

‘Will she be able to attack us both with the sword and with magic?’ Núria asked. ‘I mean, in fact, she could have killed us right now.’

‘I wonder if she could,’ the witch said calmly, looking at the corpse of the boy. It was becoming see-through and Núria guessed it would be gone without a trace within a minute. ‘Perhaps she cannot hurt us with her magic but only with the weapon. I do not know.’

‘So what are we waiting for? Let’s go after her. If we can’t catch her we can still think of something else.’ Jowan handed Darya back to Morrigan, and they set off in the direction the girl had fled.

‘I know you do not care for what I have to say,’ Morrigan said, ‘but surely you are aware that it takes more than brandishing a sword to be an Arcane Warrior. If it were that simple, there would be some of them around.’

Jowan raised his hands. ‘I bet there’s something in the Circle Tower’s library. That they don’t teach apprentices doesn’t mean it isn’t there or even forbidden. Perhaps it’s just not a popular enough thing. I mean, let’s face it, most mages like flinging spells left, right, and centre and don’t care for close combat. I just think Zevran’s right: It could save my neck in a case of emergency.’

Morrigan nodded. ‘Very well. So you are going to ask politely at the tower if you might borrow a book?’

Jowan sighed. ‘No. I’m going to ask Aisling to get it for me. By letter, if you have to know. When we’re at Vigil’s Keep.’

‘All right then. If you think ‘tis worth the bother.’

‘Is that all?’ Zevran asked. ‘No smart comments? Nothing more to get in his hair?’

‘I am not you,’ Morrigan told him scathingly.

‘Ah, the better for me,’ Zevran replied with a grin. ‘Is it my turn then?’

‘Honestly, what is it with the two of you?’ Leliana asked in a slightly exasperated voice.

Zevran raised his eyebrows at her. ‘You must really like him, if you put so much effort into defending him against me.’

‘I do,’ she replied firmly, her hands on her hips. ‘So what?’

‘Being a bard, you must have quite some experience,’ Zevran said.

‘Charming,’ Leliana interrupted him. ‘You could have taught him some manners, Núria.’

Núria grinned. ‘Manners? Zev? Are you feverish?’

‘Must be. I know I’ll regret asking, but what is your point, Zev?’

The assassin answered in a carrying whisper. ‘Oh, only that he must be quite the stallion for you to be so careful to keep him happy.’

‘Also, it’s good to be in a mage’s good graces,’ Leliana replied in the same would-be secretive manner. ‘So if I really want someone to be gagged, I just need to ask.’ Zevran threw his head back and laughed.

Núria tried to restrain herself but couldn’t help it. ‘Leliana, could you help me with something?’ she asked, falling back and staring somewhere between the trees. ‘I need the eyes of an archer … or her opinion.’

‘Certainly.’ She glanced in the same direction. ‘Now what am I supposed to see there?’

‘Look, there on the tree Morrigan took the sword from,’ Núria insisted.

Leliana shadowed her eyes and tried to see something of significance. ‘I can’t even see the tree, let alone anything of interest.’

‘ _I_ see something very interesting, though. We can talk for a moment. Alone.’

‘Oh. I guess I know what’s coming now.’

Núria grinned. ‘Then tell me already. How are you and Jowan … getting along?’

Leliana smiled. ‘Getting along? Perfectly. But that wasn’t your question. To answer that … We haven’t got there yet. We nearly did, but then Morrigan fell into her cenote.’

‘I thought so. And ever since then, there was no opportunity. To be honest, I’d have thought you’d cross that particular line a lot sooner.’

Leliana blinked and started walking after the others again. ‘It’s just … I am so nervous. I shouldn’t be, I mean, let’s face it, Zev has a point: I’m not exactly innocent. But Jowan … it’s been a while since someone has meant so much to me. I had hoped he would be the one to take the lead.’

Núria smiled. ‘If you ask me, your mage has been with one woman so far, if at all. You can barely expect him to be more confident than you.’

‘I know.’ They were almost back at their small group. ‘And to be perfectly honest, I can’t wait till we’re done here.’ With a wink, she closed the small distance and fell into step beside Jowan, who looked down at her with a sweet, gentle smile.

‘I can sense we’re near the girl,’ Morrigan said softly. ‘I wonder about the dimensions of this sphere. Perhaps the death of the boy weakened it and made it smaller.’

‘It feels … different,’ Jowan noted. ‘I have a feeling we should get out of here real quick once we’re done. When the child is dead, so we will be unless we retreat at once.’

Morrigan nodded. ‘True. We will not have much time.’ The witch halted. ‘We will meet her very soon, and I am certain she knows of our presence as well, so she will be prepared. You can do nothing, so do not act the hero. Jowan, you are responsible for Darya, and her alone. Protect her at all costs. I can look after myself.’ Again she handed her child to the mage, who nodded. Morrigan strode on before them.

‘I’ll keep us all safe, if I can,’ Jowan told the small babe in his arms. ‘You mother included, even if she doesn’t think she needs help.’

‘Come out, I know you’re here,’ Morrigan shouted, and out of nowhere, there she was. The sword looked smaller in the girl’s hands than it had in Morrigan’s, Núria realised now, and also, she looked less solid.

‘Killing her brother didn’t exactly strengthen her, it seems,’ she gave voice to her observation.

‘Yes, and the same thing that happened to her is happening to the entire sphere,’ Jowan replied. ‘If this place was dangerous before, it’s like standing on top of a volcano right now.’

‘Perhaps you can destroy us,’ the girl said in her harsh voice, ‘but I will take you with me.’ It became clear that she didn’t need the sword. She closed her eyes, and Núria had a strong feeling of déjà-vu as Morrigan was ripped into the air with her mouth open and her arms limp at her sides. Jowan gave a yell of shock and stared at the witch with his right hand held out to her, while with his left arm he still held Darya. Leliana took her gently out of his arms, rocking the child that was squirming and wincing. Núria wondered if she felt that two combating powers were tearing at her mother, who was hovering helplessly above the ground. A stain of blood was on the front of her robes, but it didn’t look life threatening. That fact seemed to be thanks to Jowan, who had done something – whatever that was – to protect her. The child tried desperately to break his spell, her eyes only on the witch.

‘Jowan, end this!’ Zevran shouted, and the mage came out of his reverie.

He darted towards the girl, who looked nothing short of astounded that a mage would tackle her rather than using magic. With a quick movement, he grabbed the sword out of her hand and rammed it into her chest. A moment later, the ground gave underneath Núria. She saw Leliana holding the now screaming Darya tightly in her arms, Zevran right next to her with a look of shock on his face, Morrigan, crumbling to the floor as Jowan’s spell finally broke – and Jowan, still on the ground next to the body of the girl that was dissolving into nothing. He too was sinking into the earth beneath. The last thing she saw before the world swallowed her was his hand closing around the blade.

Ϡ

Núria woke up with a groan on her lips. Carefully, she tested her limbs for functionality. She wasn’t even in pain, she noted, but she felt as though an army of ants was crawling over her entire body. Someone was screaming, and Núria shook off the unconsciousness that tried to grip her again. She sat up as quickly as she dared.

The others, she observed, were still on the floor, but at least Leliana and Zevran were stirring. The screams were coming from Darya, and Núria, not quite trusting her legs at the moment, crawled over to her. She looked her over, and as far as she could tell, the child was in terror but unscathed. ‘Is everyone fine?’ Leliana asked slightly weakly, sitting up cautiously herself.

‘I’ve been better, but I’m not dead, I think,’ Zevran said in as light a tone as he managed. He recovered with a speed Núria admired, walking to Morrigan and Jowan. When he looked back at Núria and Leliana she knew there was something terribly wrong.

‘Zev?’ she asked carefully.

He walked back to them in silence and sank to the floor beside them. ‘Morrigan is dead. And Jowan is injured. Badly.’

‘How badly?’ Leliana asked breathlessly, scrambling to her feet after gathering Darya from the ground and hurrying over. Núria followed her without a moment of hesitation.

He didn’t even look so severely injured. There was a deep cut in the palm of his hand that was still curled as though it was gripping something, but other than that, he had no visible wound. Still, his face was pale and contorted, his eyes squeezed shut. His breath was shallow and quick. Leliana was kneeling next to him, for once lost for words. ‘Zev, what’s wrong with him?’ Núria asked softly, and the Antivan huffed.

‘Other than that he’s dying, I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It eludes me what killed Morrigan, but my guess is he got the same. That and more.’ He indicated the cut in his hand. ‘He did as she told him. He saved Morrigan’s daughter from whatever hurt her and him.’

Leliana gave a soft sob and Núria put an arm around her shoulder. ‘Is there no way of saving him?’

Zevran shrugged. ‘I don’t know one. With Morrigan dead, we can only hope. We will bandage his hand, keep him warm, and wait.’

Leliana lit their fire again, and Zevran carried the mage to it as though he were as light as a child. Then he brought Morrigan’s body to the edge of the camp, placing her on the floor as gently as if she were alive.

Afterwards, Núria wouldn’t have been able to say how long they sat there before one of them moved or spoke. At one point Zevran asked vaguely if they were hungry, but when they just shook their heads, he simply nodded. He didn’t eat, either, though. After nightfall, Núria and Zevran retreated to their tent while Leliana remained outside, keeping the fire going. Núria offered to take Darya, but the bard insisted that she keep her.

After waiting for any change in Jowan’s condition for two full days, Núria started wondering what they were going to do if he was in some sort of magical shock. They couldn’t carry him out of the Donarks, but leaving him to be eaten by animals wasn’t an option either. Leliana was keeping Darya alive by grinding anything edible until it was a fine powder she then formed into a paste by adding water. At first, the child refused entirely, but after a while, she became hungry enough to eat.

It was on the third evening Núria decided that they had to move on – even if that did mean leaving the mage for dead: Darya wouldn’t survive this kind of nourishment forever, and if Jowan had to die, his sacrifice shouldn’t be in vain. She glanced at the mage lying curled into a tight ball next to the fire and opened her mouth to ask Zevran what he thought they should do. Quickly, she closed it and looked again. ‘Leliana,’ she called softly. For once, the bard was in her tent with the child, but she came at once. ‘Look.’

‘Is he dead?’ Leliana asked tremulously.

‘Look at him.’

Finally, Leliana glanced at the figure on the ground. ‘Maker.’

‘Would someone enlighten me how this is different to yesterday?’ Zevran asked.

Leliana swallowed. Her eyes were overly bright, the fire giving them a keen shimmer. ‘He moved.’ She sank to her knees beside him. ‘He wasn’t that curled.’ Her hand brushed through his hair, caressing him. Very carefully, she turned him on his back and stroked his cheek, calling his name softly but insistently. After the fourth time a tremor ran through his body and his eyes flickered open. For a moment he looked utterly confused, then his eyes found Leliana holding Darya.

‘Are you two fine?’ he rasped, and Leliana nodded. ‘Morrigan is dead. She was already dead from the girl’s spell, I could only stop her from using her life-force.’ He struggled to a sitting position helped by Leliana. ‘I never thought the twins would wield such power. If this one had grown up and become a fully fledged mage, and not a demented guardian of a sleeping god …’ He looked at his bandaged hand and gave Núria an apologetic look. ‘I know I said I was done with blood magic, but I had no other way to save Darya. I needed more power than I could muster in the short time.’

Núria stared at him for a moment before she burst into a mad fit of laughter. ‘Like I care! I told you, use whatever you have. Especially if it saves people.’

Jowan nodded. His eyes turned to Leliana. ‘And you? I swear I would never hurt a hair on your head, but I understand if you’d rather I stayed away from you. Magic freaks people out even when it’s healing magic.’

Leliana placed Darya carefully on the ground before she leaned down to kiss Jowan gently on his lips. ‘Don’t you dare and stay away. Actually, you can barely be close enough to me.’


	30. For the Greater Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((A rather short chapter, this, but I didn’t want to fill what’s to come into it.))

Núria decided to leave the camp directly, so Jowan gave Morrigan a cremation by their cenote. They moved through the dense forest to where Zevran said they would find the shore. For two days they would keep a lookout for a ship, then, if the Siren’s Call didn’t show up, they would move south to Sundarin to wait for her there. Núria sincerely hoped that they would not have to hire another ship to transport them, for she trusted Isabela to bring them all back to Denerim safely. Denerim … as much as she hoped to get there, as much she feared what would happen there.

For one thing, she imagined Alistair would not be happy about how she had set out on her self-imposed mission. For another, there was Darya. At first she had considered sending Leliana and Jowan to Vigil’s Keep with the child and simply not telling him. But that, after all, wasn’t an option. If he ever chanced to visit Núria, he would see the child, and if he learned then who she was, he would be righteously angry. It was best to get done with that as soon as possible.

They didn’t have to wait for Isabela: A ship was far out on the sea, moving slowly away from them. For a moment they stood and watched, then Jowan threw his hands up in the air and a blast of lightning split the sky. They watched nervously if the ship would turn, and after a few minutes they saw that it did. It was back where they were a few hours later, and before night had a chance to fall, Isabela herself came to get them with a small boat. She jumped into the shallow water and waved at them. ‘I wouldn’t let anyone else get such precious cargo,’ she said with a wink. Her smile turned into a small frown. ‘Are we waiting for someone again? I remember a grumpy witch in your tow.’

‘She isn’t coming,’ Núria replied. ‘She died.’

‘Oh, that’s sad,’ Isabela said, not sounding sad at all. ‘Anyway, we want to get back, so get in the boat. And I’m warning you, I’ll charge you another fifty sovereigns unless you have a good story telling me what exactly you were doing so far up north, keeping me busy.’

The way Isabela was gaping at them a while later, she wasn’t going to ask for more gold. Finally she seemed to realise what sort of expression she was wearing and closed her mouth. ‘Zevran,’ she said finally, ‘you are insane. You know that?’

‘We all are, it seems,’ the Antivan replied. ‘We still do not know what we accomplished, though. Time will tell that.’

‘Don’t we know?’ Leliana asked. ‘The children … the last two, they said Razikale was the last. It means that all the time the Chantry got this right: The old gods of Tevinter caused the blights, and there were only two left. It’s over.’

‘I wonder what it means to us,’ Núria said softly. ‘I wish I could have asked Morrigan if she was certain of what she hinted: That we do not have to die in such a short time.’

Zevran squeezed her hand. ‘She was right about this. There is no reason to assume that she was wrong about the rest.’

‘True,’ Leliana said fervently. ‘The dragons are gone, nothing can speak in your minds any longer, corrupting you.’

‘If that will keep our bodies safe is a different matter,’ Jowan said. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a death wish, but I’d rather not be overly optimistic here.’

Núria simply shrugged. ‘We’ll see in time.’ Her eyes turned on Isabela. ‘I do not ask for silence about what we did and what we hoped to achieve. I must however repeat that we have no sure way of knowing that there can never be a blight again, even though we can assume that. And there are still darkspawn in the deep roads, perhaps even more dangerous than before. They were controlled by the Old Gods, now they are free.’

‘Free to pour onto the earth whenever they like?’ Isabela asked. ‘Is that really an improvement?’

‘They were the most effective army in the world because they were not commanded but steered by the mind of one creature. Now, that will change. If they want to conquer anything now, they will be separate beings, each with their own mind. That makes them a lot more difficult to control. And they don’t have experience.’

Isabela nodded slowly. ‘I understand. So you are all returning to Denerim, hoping to be left alone by whoever is after you.’

‘What’s life without adventure?’ Zevran asked with a grin. ‘But we are not going to remain in the city, once we are done with our business there, we will go to Vigil’s Keep. We should be more or less safe there.’

‘More or less, I see,’ Isabela said. ‘That is more than could be said about those who have you around them. Well, if I ever need anything from you, I know where I can find you. For example if my ship is taken by thinking darkspawn.’

‘I doubt that very much,’ Núria said. ‘But we do owe you for coming back to bring us home.’

‘Well, at least on this we agree,’ Isabela replied with a grin. ‘If you will excuse me now, that ship doesn’t steer herself alone.’

Ϡ

However anxious Núria was to get behind her what she had to do, the closer they got to Denerim, the more she dreaded the arrival. When they finally sailed into the port, her heart was racing and she actually felt sick – something that hadn’t happened to her in a very long time. ‘This is mental,’ she muttered to Zevran. ‘I’m more scared of Alistair than I was of the Architect. Why?’

Zevran put his arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. ‘Because somehow you never got it out of your head that he is your senior.’

‘I just fear that this once he’ll put up a fight,’ Núria said with a frown.

‘Not if he’s sensible. He will understand.’

‘If you say so,’ Núria said, jumping off the ship onto solid ground again. ‘Do me a favour, Zev, get him to meet us at the house of that freakish thing … Vilhm Madon. I bet you it’s still empty.’

‘Why there?’ Zevran asked.

Núria closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. ‘I think a scene in the palace is not what we want to cause, and I cannot guarantee that it will not come to that.’

Zevran simply nodded and headed off towards the palace.

Waiting for Alistair with Jowan and Leliana standing behind her, the latter holding a baby, seemed like a lifetime. When the king of Ferelden finally stepped into the hovel after Zevran, he wore a look of deep confusion. The scene before him didn’t change that expression. ‘Er,’ he made simply, looking at Núria.

‘We managed to slay the last two Old Gods,’ she told him, her heart hammering against her throat. ‘Morrigan was with us, it was her idea to begin with. Time will tell what that means for us, but Leliana and Zevran seem to be very optimistic. That’s the good news. The bad news is, Morrigan is dead.’

Alistair frowned slightly. ‘ _Morrigan_ wanted to kill the Old Gods? Why?’

‘Because she feared that during a blight they would seek her child,’ Núria answered, determined not to go into detail unless she had to. ‘I didn’t believe it was her real reason, I thought she had to have an ulterior motive, but now she’s dead, and I know I did her a great injustice.’

Zevran took hold of her hand, squeezing it lightly.

Alistair’s eyes settled on the small creature in Leliana’s arms. ‘Her child. _My_ child, you mean to say.’ He stepped past Núria. Leliana offered her to him, and Alistair took her slightly awkwardly.

‘Alistair, you have to leave her with us,’ Núria managed to get out the words.

He blinked twice, then he stared at her as if she had gone insane. ‘No. No, I’ll take her back to the palace. You have to understand, I … I need to have an heir, and the chances for me … for a Grey Warden to have a child are slim.’

‘She cannot inherit your throne,’ Jowan told him softly.

Alistair looked daggers at him. ‘And why not?’

‘She’s a mage,’ Núria said quickly before Jowan could. ‘And Leliana and Jowan are willing to keep her.’

‘No,’ Alistair said again, only more emphatically. ‘You want to leave my child with _him_? Remember Connor! If she’s a mage, that’s just one more reason not to give her to him.’

‘We will give her to the tower when we have to,’ Leliana said quickly. ‘And yes, we remember Connor. Nothing like that will happen again.’

‘It’s not that I don’t trust _you_ ,’ Alistair said, giving the bard an almost pleading look. ‘I just … I can’t do this.’

‘And how exactly are you going to explain her to Anora?’ Núria asked gently. ‘She will not be overly delighted about this, and you can’t blame her for that.’

‘She is my daughter.’

‘Only physically,’ Zevran said sharply. ‘Whatever was in her of you, it died in the deep roads.’

‘How can you say that?’ Alistair asked, looking more desperate with every minute.

‘There were two minds in the child,’ Núria explained with forced calm, pointedly not using her name. ‘Neither could thrive while the other was there. Imagine having someone else in your body.’ She took a step towards the former templar. ‘Look, we will take her to Vigil’s Keep. One of the last things Morrigan did was tell Jowan to look after her daughter, Alistair. I think she should have that wish.’

‘Why tell me at all, then?’ Alistair asked reproachfully. ‘Why not march off to the Keep with her and leave me happily oblivious?’

Núria plucked Darya out of Alistair’s arms again. ‘Because one day you will come there, and I thought it best you don’t start asking questions then.’

Alistair nodded slowly, still unable to look away from his daughter. ‘Will you tell her who I am?’

‘If you insist that I do so, yes,’ Núria said. ‘But you should take your time to consider if that is really wise. Perhaps it would be best to say she is Leliana and Jowan’s daughter. Remember what you are, Alistair. Your responsibility is greater than a single child.’

 

 


	31. No Hell To Discover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Chapter heading is a line taken from the song Closer by Lacuna Coil.))

Alistair did come to visit a few times over the next five years, frequently enough for Darya to remember him but not so often that anyone got suspicious. He never asked to tell the small child who really were her parents, but Núria assumed that this required a lot of self-restraint on his part. As the baby turned into a child over time, she found that there was no reason to think there was anything mysterious about Darya: She had dark hair, but that she could just as well have inherited from Jowan. Her eye colour was almost the same yellowish gleam that Morrigan’s had been, but it was a little more brown, so that might pass as an interesting coincidence. That the child was a mage she had told her soldiers from the start, but they had seen enough not to be scared by something as normal as that. What with Anders being a very social person they were used to mages anyway.

It was during one such visit of the king the magic Jowan had only sensed in Darya showed. As always, Alistair had come almost alone with only a few guards. He had admitted that he didn’t even want to take those with him, seeing how he could look after himself well enough, but people insisted that the king didn’t travel through half Ferelden on his own. Núria believed that by people he meant Anora, and she privately agreed with her.

Also as always, Alistair questioned Jowan and Leliana if Darya had done anything that would call for her to be brought to the Circle Tower. Núria and Zevran were in the same room, and that was only partly because Alistair was a friend they didn’t get to see often. So far the situation had never escalated, but she preferred being on the safe side. There was, however, one fundamental difference to all the meetings before: It was sitting between the couple and the templar, wearing a green dress.

Núria wasn’t listening. Her mind was elsewhere, somewhere in the kitchen, to be precise, where a large cake was being prepared. She looked forward to that almost as much as Darya, she guessed. With that on her mind, it was small wonder she had never noticed the slight change in tone, the friendly if reserved conversation turning into a still polite but distinctly cold one. Zevran leaned against the wall, unable to care less, but Darya suddenly stood up and looked from one to the other. Rather than saying anything to them, though, she walked up to Núria and beckoned her down. ‘Why does he hate Daddy?’ she asked in a carrying whisper only a small child could utter with such innocence.

Núria frowned slightly and sighed. ‘He doesn’t. He’s just worried. He’s always worried.’ She glanced at the other three, then at Zevran. ‘Let’s go look how the cake’s doing. They can sort this out without us.’

They spent almost an hour in the kitchens, distracting Darya from a conversation she should never have witnessed in the first place. It had started harmless enough. Darya knew she was a mage, and she knew she couldn’t be taught at the keep, so there were no surprises there. And, Núria reminded herself again, there had never been a quarrel before. She guessed she knew what it was. She had expected a child with such strong magic to show signs sooner than this, and probably Alistair was thinking along the same lines. Still, with her there, he should have kept his scepticism to himself – if that was what had happened.

When Núria’s need to know that all was well got greater than the wish to keep her distance to the two parties, she led Zevran and Darya back. Before they got into earshot of the parlour, Núria stopped. ‘Darya, how would you like to go out on the yard with Zev for practicing?’ Darya had watched Jowan training with Zevran ever since she could walk, and sometimes she insisted that she wanted to learn sword fighting as well. In her case that was more stick fighting, but it was certainly fun to watch.

Taking a deep breath, Núria thrust the door open and stepped through. ‘Are you done?’

‘Where is she?’ Alistair asked with what sounded like forced calm.

‘Outside, with Zevran. Can we talk?’ She glanced at the other two. ‘Alone, if you would be so kind.’

Jowan hesitated for a moment, but Leliana grabbed his arm and tugged with a stern look. Núria waited for the door to close behind them and then a few moments.

‘Listen,’ Alistair began, but Núria cut him short.

‘No, you listen,’ she said. ‘Every pair of eyes here is watching for something to show in Darya, some more alert, some less so, but trust me, any of the soldiers would tell me if they saw anything. And so would Leliana and Jowan.’

‘Have you ever thought that your mage has done something to hide her magic?’

Núria blinked at him. ‘Is that even possible? For another mage, I mean. You could, I guess.’

‘Hide it, not supress it. Or make witnesses forget what they saw. He could do that.’

‘My guess is, you should leave now. We all agreed that Darya would go to the Tower once her powers show, and none of us are hiding anything, let alone tampering with others’ minds. We’re done talking.’

‘I could just take her there, you know,’ Alistair told her with folded arms.

Núria glared at him through half closed eyes. ‘I think I don’t hear right. You cannot remove anyone from here without my permission, and as long as there has been no reason to, I will not let Darya be torn away from her parents. For that’s what they are to her.’ She opened the door again and stepped outside. ‘If you wish to say goodbye to her, you may of course do so, but should you try and move her from here I suggest you gather an army first. And make sure it’s a good one, I know how to handle a battle.’

‘I wouldn’t actually take someone you protect by force. You know that.’

‘Alistair, you cannot make this unsaid,’ Núria told him with a slight frown. ‘Thinking if you really want to say something before you utter the words is a good thing. Until we meet again.’ With that, she turned on her heel.

It wasn’t as though Núria believed that Alistair would try and seize Darya, but something drove her out to the walkway. She sometimes went there, there was no other place where you could look as far along the road, and whenever she felt antsy and feared some spontaneous attack by whatever evil, she watched from there until she felt at ease again. So when Núria stepped out of the door and onto the walkway, she didn’t really expect to see anything of relevance. She watched the road for a minute, but if there was as much as a dog on it, she would notice, so she moved on and looked out onto the training grounds.

Sometimes Núria thought there was no time of day – or lately, of night – when all was quiet there. The walls of the Keep held the noise outside, however. One group of five were fighting with mazes, Anders and Jowan were practising with each other, hurling spells that would vanish just short of their target a good deal away from everyone else, and Darya was poking Zevran with a stick. Núria grinned and shook her head. She was about to turn away when a shout from Leliana halted her. She couldn’t understand what the bard was saying, but she definitely sounded angry. One more look down from the walkway showed her Alistair, who was standing before her, and that was enough to send Núria running.

Before she was even within sight of the training grounds, she heard more shouting and then, suddenly, all was silent before a high-pitched scream rent the air. Núria ran around the corner so fast she nearly fell before she skidded to a halt before a group of people standing in a half circle blocking her sight. Roughly, she pushed past them and froze.

Alistair was slumped against the wall, but even at the first glance Núria saw he was breathing. Leliana had her fingers pressed to her lips, while Darya was slowly stumbling backwards until she bumped into Zevran. Jowan seemed to have stopped in mid-run in an almost comical position. Núria sighed. ‘What did he do?’ she asked, nodding towards Alistair, and after a split second, Zevran burst into laughter. ‘I wasn’t trying to make a joke.’

Leliana gave Núria a look that showed she was fighting very hard not to laugh herself. ‘Well, I would have assumed that the question would be what did _she_ do, no?’

Núria blinked. ‘That’s obvious,’ Núria replied drily.

‘Well, Alistair here offered an explanation why Darya hadn’t shown any magic by now, and when I said he was being ridiculous he sort of yelled at me,’ the bard said. ‘Yes, well, and then I suppose Darya heard, and next thing he was knocked into the wall.’

‘She didn’t do it on purpose,’ Jowan said quickly.

Núria smiled at him. ‘I know. But it means Alistair is right at least in one point.’ Her gaze turned to the small figure of Darya trying to melt into Zevran’s legs, which were very solidly blocking her retreat. ‘What can I say, your time has come. You’re going to learn to be a mage.’

‘Is he hurt?’ Darya asked timidly.

Núria spun around, looking for Anders. When she found him, she gestured to Alistair. ‘You tell us, why don’t you?’

Anders nodded quickly and knelt beside the templar, holding his hand to his forehead. ‘Unconscious, but it’s not too bad. He’ll have one hell of a headache once he wakes up, though, and I’m not sure if a want to change that. He deserves it.’

‘What did he say?’ Núria asked. Anders glanced towards Jowan for a moment. ‘I see,’ Núria said. ‘Still. Be nice.’ Anders shrugged and let a wave of light envelop Alistair’s head for a moment. The king screwed up his face and glanced up at them. ‘Happy now, are you?’ Núria asked. She held out her hand to help him stand all the same.

‘I want to bring her,’ Jowan told her. ‘I’ll not have her being deported by force like a criminal.’

Núria sighed. ‘Anders … Could you please … er.’ She faltered and turned an almost pleading glance to the mage.

‘Yes!’ he said at once. ‘Come on Darya, let’s go seek Ivanhoe.’

Darya slowly walked up to Anders. ‘Is he mad at me?’ she asked in another carrying whisper.

Anders sighed and took her hand to leave with her. ‘No, he isn’t, he’s just temporarily lost his speech. That’s a good thing in a templar, too. You’ll learn that soon enough.’

Núria shook her head and rounded on the surrounding group of people. ‘You four … with me,’ she said simply and strode back to the keep. Only when they were back in the room where all this had begun Núria looked back. ‘First … Alistair, are you deaf? Or do you miss Isolde so badly you have to make Darya suffer?’ Out of the corner of her eye Núria saw Jowan wear an expression very much like Darya’s a few moments before.

‘What are you …’ Alistair began, but Núria shook her head so violently he fell silent.

‘I told you no one here is hiding anything. We all agree that Darya is safest in the tower, for her own sake as well as others’. If this is a late attempt to avenge that utter cow, beat it. She’s gone, and even if that doesn’t necessarily make the world a better place, it certainly makes it a quieter one.’

Alistair frowned slightly. ‘You sound like Morrigan. It hasn’t anything to do with Isolde, I’m just worried, right?’

Núria huffed. ‘Well, try and be worried without harassing people. Besides, clearly, the issue is over anyway. Jowan … A question. Do you think it is really wise for you to go back to the Tower? Someone sent a crow after you, and I bet it was one of the templars.’

‘I told you, she’s not being brought as a captive,’ Jowan said stubbornly. ‘I can look after myself.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Núria replied with a small smile.

‘And it’s not like he’s going alone,’ Leliana said firmly.

Núria nodded. ‘Good. While you’re there, ask Greagoir for me who on earth had the nerve to send yet another assassin after a Grey Warden. If he doesn’t know, tell him I trust he’ll find out by the next time I ask.’

‘Tell him he’ll get a visit from another crow if something like this happens again,’ Zevran said with a grin.

‘I still think this is dangerous, but I understand you, Jowan,’ Núria said with a slight frown. ‘I’ll send a few of our guards with you. You should leave as soon as you can.’ She turned to look at Alistair. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I think so. Maker, she’s so small!’

‘She’s still a mage, and more,’ Núria told him. ‘After today I have a feeling that I have to make this clear. No one can know who she is, Alistair, not Irving, not Greagoir. You can tell Wynne if you feel you need someone to complain to, but she’ll agree with me that it is best for Darya herself not to know.’

Alistair nodded. ‘Look, it’s not like I don’t know what life is like for the Circle mages. She needn’t have a harder time than necessary.’ He folded his arms. ‘One thing, though. If she’s to be brought as Jowan’s daughter, I think it is very important to make sure whoever still wants revenge on Jowan cannot take out his resentment on her.’

‘She’s only a child,’ Jowan protested. ‘They cannot just harm her to somehow get to me!’

‘Do you think templars are angels?’ Alistair asked him. ‘Let me enlighten you: They aren’t. Besides, sending you assassins is pretty desperate. I’d be careful.’

Núria rubbed the bridge of her nose. ‘Would it be at all possible for you to go with them to the tower? No, listen, Jowan. He’s right. And he’s a templar himself.’ She looked up at Alistair who wore an expression of deep discomfort. ‘Are you scared of her?’

‘No!’ he said quickly. ‘I just … don’t know. I cannot just … I mean, how do I explain why?’

‘True,’ Núria replied softly. ‘Very true. Well, plan B then. Wynne’s at Denerim?’ Alistair nodded. ‘Fine. You get ready to leave. I’ll send a letter to Wynne, asking her to go as your representative. But if she shouldn’t avail anything, please, please think of some reason to go and investigate yourself.’

‘Of course,’ Alistair said with such sincerity Núria felt sorry for any harsh word she had uttered before. She opened her mouth to say so, but Alistair shook his head. ‘Look … you were right. I should apologise.’

Núria smiled vaguely. ‘You should. But not to me.’


	32. Power Is Knowledge

Núria watched them go with her arms folded and a vague smile. Zevran stood next to her, frowning slightly. ‘Have you given any thought at all to what you just might have done,’ Anders asked softly, walking up to her.

Her expression didn’t change when she turned to look at him. ‘We’ll talk in a second.’ She waved a soldier towards her. The man saluted before her, but Núria waved him away. ‘I need to speak to Nathaniel and Velanna. Find them and bring them to my office. We’ll be with them shortly.’

Zevran and Anders exchanged a glance and a shrug. ‘Right, you’re up to something,’ Anders said then. ‘I wonder if I even want to know.’

‘We’re going to the dungeon,’ Núria said. ‘Has been a while, don’t you think?’

Zevran shook his head. ‘What makes you think you’ll get more out of him now than any of the previous times?’

Núria laughed. ‘ _I_ won’t. Anders … have you found a truth spell yet?’

The mage shook his head. ‘Jowan and I tried. We really did, but it doesn’t work. You cannot tell if someone’s lying, not for sure.’

‘Well, then we’ll try a different approach. Make him say the truth. Force him.’

Anders’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Whoa. That goes way beyond what I think is safe. As far as safe goes where blood magic is involved.’

‘I know. That’s why I asked if there is another way. Since there isn’t, I don’t see how else we can get the truth out of him.’

‘I wouldn’t normally even suggest that, but before I mess with his mind, I’d rather try a more conventional means like torture,’ Anders said.

Zevran gave a humourless laugh. ‘Torture can get many things out of a man, but not necessarily the truth. We do not want a confession to every crime that has ever been committed in this world, we want to know. Under torture he might admit things he has never done.’

Anders swallowed. ‘Very well. I’ve never done that, though. Let’s … let’s try and give him a chance to talk freely. Please?’

Núria nodded. ‘Another one. Let’s go.’

The prisoner was sitting on his bed in the dungeon when they entered. He didn’t even look up. ‘A little early for my meal. Long time no see, Warden-Commander.’ He practically spat the title at Núria.

‘An offer,’ she began. ‘Yet again. Tell us what you were doing here, and you are free. Speak before we make you.’

‘I was trying to steal some of your goods,’ the prisoner told her as he had done so many times before. ‘I was going to smuggle them out to sell them.’

‘Were you planning on smuggling something in as well, or was that a mistake?’ she asked. She had no idea how often they had been through the exact same conversation since the soldiers had caught the smugglers one and a half years ago now. They had been two then, but his companion had preferred to starve.

‘I have no idea what you mean,’ the prisoner said in a bored tone.

Núria closed her eyes and counted to ten.

‘Oh, a new answer,’ Zevran said with mild amusement.

‘I know you claim I had lyrium on me,’ the prisoner replied. ‘Someone must have slipped me the potion.’

‘It wasn’t a potion, as you perfectly well know,’ Anders said coldly. ‘It was raw lyrium, and that’s not something easy to find or to sell.’

Núria turned to look at the mage. ‘This is getting nowhere. Anders, I’m begging you.’

He took a deep breath. Then he turned his gaze on the prisoner. ‘I can force the truth from you, and I am going to if I must. Last chance: How did you come by the lyrium, and what were you going to do with it?’

The prisoner spat before Anders’s feet. ‘They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world. Or beyond.’

Something flickered in Anders’s eyes. ‘I need to touch him if I want to keep this under any sort of control. Zev, would you hold him still for me? I’d rather not use a spell, it might interfere. And if I seem weird afterwards you’d better lock _me_ in that dungeon. Or kill me, as that won’t help.’

Núria blinked at him, grabbed his sleeve and pulled him a few steps away from the prisoner. ‘You mean this is dangerous for you? Then don’t! I’m not risking your life.’

Anders let out a sigh. ‘I’ll be careful. I’ll withdraw before anything bad can happen to me. I promise.’

‘You don’t have to do this,’ Núria told him, shaking her head.

Anders gave her a crooked grin and walked purposefully back to the cell. ‘I’m not exactly looking forward to this, but if he tells us that he’s been sent, it’s worth the risk. Jowan’s always been my friend. I do have to, and I’m telling you, the Harrowing is more dangerous.’

Zevran clapped the mage on the shoulder and let himself into the cell. When the prisoner made a move towards the door, Zevran punched him in the middle of his face. With a distinct crack, the man stumbled back and clutched at his nose. Blood was flowing down between his fingers. Zevran stepped behind him and held his arms firmly behind his back.

‘How convenient,’ Núria said with a grin. Anders frowned at her. ‘Now don’t tell me you’re going to cut yourself for this bit of vermin.’

‘I’m going to regret this,’ Anders said softly as he moved into the cell. The prisoner froze in Zevran’s grip as the mage towered before him and covered his eyes with his hands. A jolt went through the figure and he tried to turn his head away, but after a moment he stopped struggling.

‘How did you come by the lyrium ore?’ Núria asked again.

‘Given by a templar,’ the prisoner replied hoarsely. Then, more blood gushing from his nose, ‘My brother.’

‘What were you going to do with it?’ Núria inquired further.

‘Give it to someone,’ he replied.

‘How?’

‘As a gift, for him to open,’ the prisoner rasped, again squirming between Anders and Zevran. ‘Give this to any that might be a mage.’

‘What?!’ Anders asked loudly. ‘Any? Never mind who you kill on the way as long as you get your target?’

‘This is the most stupid plan I’ve ever heard of,’ Zevran said with contempt. ‘How much were you paid?’

‘Not paid.’ The front of the prisoner’s tunic was wet with his blood and his voice getting soft. ‘Need no payment for destroying an abomination with a dead soul.’

Anders jerked his hands away from the man before him. ‘He’s going to die if I keep this up, and I’m stopping this before I want him to.’

Núria nodded. ‘Thanks. I’ve heard enough, anyway.’ She followed the two men into the cell. Zevran placed the prisoner on the floor where he sat shaking. She knelt beside him, glaring down at the broken figure before her. ‘Are you some sort of priest?’ she asked him, and the man shook his head.

‘Only a man who keeps his faith to the Maker,’ he said.

‘Because the Maker is so fond of murderers,’ Núria said. ‘Who is that brother of yours? Come on, it’s not like there’s much point in not telling now.’

‘He’ll not be a problem for you again. I told you everything. Let me go, as you promised.’

Núria sighed. ‘I’m afraid I cannot. You’re far too convinced of what you were doing. I’m sorry.’ Her hand found her dagger and slipped it between his ribs without much effort.

Ϡ

‘What did that mean, no longer a problem?’ Anders asked on the way back to the Keep.

‘Perhaps that he’s dead,’ Zevran suggested.

‘Perhaps,’ Núria said. ‘Still, this confirms that we should be cautious.’

‘Well, whoever is behind this isn’t very bright,’ Anders mused. ‘I mean, how difficult can it be to get to a single target in such a restricted place?’

Núria grinned. ‘Ask Nate.’

Anders snorted. ‘Good point. What now, though?’

Núria pushed the door to her office open and nodded at the two people waiting for her. ‘Nate, the lyrium smuggler revealed he tried to kill someone before you caught him,’ she said as an opening sentence.

Nathaniel licked his lips and smirked. ‘That someone is not by any chance on the road to the east?’ His eyes rested on Anders’s bloodstained robe for a few seconds, but he refrained from commenting.

Núria inclined her head. ‘He said he has a brother that is a templar. That’s where he got the lyrium. He also said that his brother is no longer a problem. But that was after the actual questioning, so I don’t know if that is true. Which is where you two come in. And you too, Zev. Follow them.’

Zevran’s eyebrows shot up at once. ‘Oh?’

‘Zev, I hate sending you away, but I really feel they might need being watched. And let’s face it, I cannot do this half as well as the three of you. Don’t let anyone see you, no traveller, and certainly not them. Even Leliana can’t know you’re there.’

‘Now there’s a challenge,’ Zevran said. ‘Why?’

‘Because she’ll be as worried as I am, and I don’t want her to feel safe. I want her to be alert, too. Follow them to the Tower, inside it, if you can without being seen. Even on the way back stay out of sight: If anyone does try anything, it will be on their return. Bring them back safely.’

‘I don’t think I heard you right,’ Nathaniel said with a slight frown. ‘Did you just say we should break into the Circle Tower?’

‘Unless you risk your own safety, yes,’ Núria said. ‘But only one of you, and if the one that does it gets caught, don’t tell there are two more. If you manage to get inside, don’t let Jowan out of your sight for a moment.’

Ϡ

Núria hated waiting more than anything, especially if she knew that something would take quite a while. But even if something should happen, not all of them would just disappear, at least Leliana and Zevran would know how to save their hides. Again and again she wondered if she shouldn’t have gone with them, leaving Anders in charge, but the fact remained that she wasn’t half as stealthy as one of the other three. After two weeks Núria pushed them all firmly from her mind, thrusting herself into paperwork she normally avoided to stop herself from wondering what might be happening. So when one day a rather fresh soldier came crashing into her office while she was sorting cases for the court, she glared at him and nearly kicked him out. ‘Some people actually knock before they enter.’

‘There’s half an army coming,’ the soldier said, and Núria was on her feet at once. ‘I thought you might want to know.’

Núria raced out onto the walkway to find the travellers, shading her eyes against the still low sun.

Half an army was certainly an exaggeration. A handful of people were drawing near at a rather leisurely pace. Núria waited until they were close enough for her to count them. They were five. ‘Army, my arse,’ she muttered. No matter how much she strained her eyes, though, she couldn’t make out who it was against the sunlight, although she thought she knew. The question was why they were arriving together. Somewhere between confused and worried, Núria headed down. She called a few soldiers to her just in case before she stood in the gate with her arms folded, waiting.

As they approached and became recognisable, a smile spread on Núria’s face and she walked towards them. ‘So much for stealth!’ she called out to them.

She heard a shout of laughter and Zevran came walking towards her faster than the rest. ‘I’d like to see you try that.’ He ran the last few paces between them to embrace her and kiss her as though he hadn’t seen her for years. It wasn’t before the others were with them that he let go of her. ‘I’d also like to see you try and break into the Tower.’ He tipped his forehead. ‘Wasn’t even worth an attempt.’

‘I nearly killed Nathaniel, just so you know,’ Leliana said conversationally, coming after Zevran. ‘Sending someone to tail me, honestly. But I must say, I only managed to get one of them when we were halfway back here. Until then I was really scared because I realised after a while we were being watched, I only couldn’t catch them.’

Núria smiled apologetically. ‘I admit that was part of the plan. So no troubles?’

‘No, but it wasn’t an entire waste of time, either,’ Zevran said with a smirk. ‘Those two provided some entertainment on the way back.’

‘ _Zevran_ ,’ Leliana breathed, going crimson.

Jowan looked ready to dig a hole into the ground where he was standing in order to disappear. Velanna rolled her eyes at the Antivan. ‘For you, perhaps. Not all of us feel a need to intrude on others’ privacy.’

‘Weren’t we supposed to watch?’ Zevran asked, grinning. ‘Especially when they’re not on their guard?’

‘Suite yourself,’ Velanna said lightly. She turned her cool gaze to Leliana. ‘I’d get back to him somehow.’

‘He’s not easy to get back at,’ the bard replied darkly. ‘Zev, you’re horrible! Anyway, isn’t there anything you’ve got to do? Go before I get really angry!’

Núria tried hard not to laugh while Zevran didn’t move an inch.

‘So you already thought you were being followed and had the nerve to …’ she broke off in mid-sentence and laughed. ‘I’m not sure which is worse.’

‘Do you think he really watched us?’ Leliana asked in a slightly timid voice when Zevran finally did walk towards the keep.

‘You bet on that,’ Núria answered.

‘Did,’ Nathaniel said with a smile. ‘From quite a distance though, it’s not as bad as he made it sound.’

‘So … any news for me?’ Núria asked, still smiling.

Leliana grinned. ‘Ah, yes, that. Greagoir seemed rather shocked you didn’t get his letter. He sent it quite a while ago. It says that one of his templars had somehow lost it and murdered a mage at her Harrowing although she’d been fine. That one also admitted sending people after Jowan, and he had told his brother that if he should get caught, he should step in for him. He tried to warn you that there might be someone on their way here, but that he expected nothing more to happen after that. He hinted that the templar in question had been punished, but he didn’t say how.’

‘It’s a shame really, that one wasn’t unkind,’ Jowan said. ‘But I guess what Uldred did to the Circle and the templars was enough to drive anyone crazy.’

‘Yeah, then I guess he was the brother of the lyrium smuggler,’ Núria said lightly. ‘He finally decided to, er, talk.’

‘Yes?’ Leliana asked with raised eyebrows. ‘I didn’t think he would after I failed so magnificently at questioning him.’

‘Well, since nothing else would do I asked Anders to help,’ Núria said lightly.

Jowan let out a low whistle. ‘That’s certainly a way, but a bit extreme.’

‘That’s why I hesitated so long. So … Darya? Is she all right?’

‘I think,’ Jowan said. ‘Try and explain to a child though why she has to stay while her father, who she knows is a mage and should therefore also be in the tower, can’t even remain there until she’s used to the place and all the people.’ He threw up his arms and huffed. ‘Spending those – what? two hours? – there was quite enough for me to remember why on earth I’m better off here, even if I hadn’t ever done anything dumb. And there I was, telling her this was the right thing, telling her this was her home now and that this was good in every possible way. Above everything else, I’m now officially a hypocrite.’ He closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘And yet I know it _is_ right, because otherwise she’ll be an outcast her entire life.’

‘Trust me, she understood, she’s a child, but she’s bright,’ Leliana said gently. ‘The only thing is … we’re not going to see her in a long time, perhaps never again. And it’s good she doesn’t know you fled, she might take a leaf out of your book if she knew.’

Jowan shook his head. ‘It’s not like she’d be the first to develop that idea on her own. That’s why I asked Aisling to look after her for me, to tell me if anything’s the matter. I always said I’d go and see Darya now and then, but I desperately don’t want to put as much as a toe in that place unless like now I absolutely have to.’

‘You didn’t have to, now, Jowan, you could have sent someone,’ Núria said. ‘But I do prefer you to stay well away from that place.’ Leliana nodded fervently, and Núria grinned. ‘Look, I’ll ask Alistair if he can think of any way you can see her. Both of you. Don’t look that doubtful, he can be reasonable if he wants to. Leliana, he certainly likes you well enough. Perhaps you should write to him. You have a way with people.’

‘Tell him we want to see her at least once in a while, no?’ she muttered. ‘Why, yes, perhaps I should. Might be he comes up with some way. Why else would you have a king for a friend?’

 

 


	33. Blinded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((The heading to this one is a song by ASP, and a very, very disturbing one at that – much more so than this chapter, but it still fits. ))

Before they heard from Alistair, another year went by. Leliana tried writing to him two more times, but when finally a letter came from the king, it was addressed to Núria and said nothing more than, ‘I need to see you. I’m on my way.’ With an ominous feeling she showed this note to the Bard.

‘Do you think this has to do with me?’ Leliana asked after contemplating it for a while. ‘I mean, I don’t suppose Alistair ever was one of the wordiest people, but that …’

‘Doesn’t sound encouraging, I know,’ Núria said. ‘Well, I guess we’ll know in a short while. Prepare Jowan, though, who knows.’

When the templar arrived, he was, for once, alone, and wearing travelling clothes. When she saw him, Núria thought for a moment that he looked a lot older than when last she had seen him, but the moment he spotted her his face lit up and he approached her with a smile. ‘Núria, I’m so glad to see you’re well,’ he said, pulling her into a rib-crushing embrace.

‘Whoa,’ she made, frowning up at him. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing! Nothing, I’m just …’

‘Alistair, you’re never _just_ doing anything. And don’t tell me you’re fine, I can see and hear that’s not true.’

Alistair deflated visibly. ‘Can we talk alone somewhere? I mean … only four eyes, for once.’

Núria blinked at him and nodded. ‘Of course. But now I’m really worried.’ She led Alistair up to her office, sent the guard before it away and locked the door behind them. All pretence fell off him the moment Núria faced him.

‘I’m scared,’ he said simply, striding up to her, clutching her upper arms. ‘How are you, are you all right?’ Frozen, Núria stood unblinking. Alistair let go of her and took a step backwards. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered.

‘I’m … I’m fine,’ she managed. ‘What’s the matter, are you ill?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m … Maker, how do I tell you this?’ He turned away, staring at the door. ‘I’m hearing things, Núria. Things that aren’t there.’

Núria darted around the templar to face him again. ‘Things as in darkspawn? That’s not supposed to be possible anymore.’

Alistair shook his head. ‘Not darkspawn. Honestly, half the time I don’t know what I’m hearing. Things like … people talking in an undertone. Quite a few people. Things like naked feet running over stone. Once I heard the chant.’

‘The chant?’ Núria echoed. ‘I mean, you could actually have heard it from some distant chantry, no?’

‘No, that was only in my head, trust me,’ Alistair told her desperately. ‘And it’s always at night. First I though it were dreams, but that’s not really it. Like those darkspawn dreams were, only not darkspawn.’ He looked down at her eyes with a haunted look that had never been there before. ‘Am I going insane now?’

Núria opened her mouth to say no, but she didn’t manage. ‘I don’t know, Alistair. I have absolutely no idea. Have you told anyone this?’

‘Of course not. How could I? Núria, this is bad. If this keeps up I’m going to die a completely insane, childless, failed man. If at least Eamon had a child that could take up the throne, but no such luck.’

‘Alistair, it’s not like we were talking at your deathbed,’ Núria said gently. ‘Although I think there might be hope in the fact that a templar complains about the laws concerning mages.’

‘I’ve never become a templar,’ Alistair said. ‘And after I managed to have one child, I assumed that I could manage that a second time.’

Núria shook her head. ‘I understand that this is something that worries you, and I am sorry, but I don’t see what I can do about it. But I cannot image that you’re going insane. There must be a reason for this.’

Alistair shrugged. ‘What reason could there be? Like I said, I don’t even know what I’m hearing.’

Núria scratched her head. ‘Finding that out might be helpful. You heard the Chant of Light? Did you recognise a voice?’

Alistair offered a crooked grin. ‘An old woman by the sound of it, but I didn’t try to find out, I was busy forcing myself not to panic. Look, I shouldn’t have bothered you with this, I just don’t know who else I can turn to.’

‘It’s all right, Alistair, I’ll think about this,’ Núria promised. ‘I have absolutely no idea, though. I’ll ask my wardens if any of them have had … apparitions of any sort recently.’

‘You can’t tell them I’m hearing voices!’ Alistair protested.

Núria sighed. ‘Do you trust me so little recently?’

The templar closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘No. I’m just … so scared. Try and help me, will you?’

Núria nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll talk to them this evening.’

Ϡ

Núria looked at her wardens, trying to keep her expression even. This time, Zevran was with her. The only one not present was Justice, who had after a time decided it was his time to go. What had had happened to the spirit was a mystery to Núria, but Kristoff’s body was finally buried. ‘I require an honest answer to my question,’ she began, causing raised eyebrows and a few exchanged looks. ‘Did any of you have … epiphanies of whatever kind recently?’

‘You mean other than the epiphanies a guy gets once in a while when he’s lonely at night?’ Anders asked in a carrying whisper.

‘Other than that, yes,’ Núria confirmed rolling her eyes.

‘Pity, I’d tell you those, if you liked,’ the mage said with a grin.

‘I dare you,’ Zevran told him lightly.

‘Oh, I take it you would like to hear that too?’ Anders retorted. Zevran took a step towards him.

‘That you offer that is probably more surprising,’ he said in a conversational tone. Anders was completely unperturbed.

‘I asked first.’

‘Boys!’ Núria said half laughing, half exasperated.

‘Oh, but of course we were going to invite you politely,’ Anders declared loudly.

‘For the love of the maker, this is serious,’ Núria told them finally, crossing her arms before her chest. ‘So there was nothing unusual, nothing you heard … or saw perhaps.’

‘What is unusual?’ Velanna asked. ‘Those two being fools certainly isn’t.’

‘No strange dreams, no disembodied voices?’

‘Núria, should I be worried?’ Zevran asked, looking rather alarmed.

She sighed. ‘About me, no.’ She considered if there was a way to keep Alistair out of this, but she couldn’t see how she could. ‘All right, what I am going to say now will remain within this room. If you should at any time feel you need to discuss it, make sure you’re not overheard by anyone. Servants, soldiers, _anyone_. Should word get out I will find out who was careless and trust me, you’d sorely regret that.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Alistair has had dreams. Dreams like the darkspawn dreams, only with all sorts of other things, and nothing visual, as far as I know. I promised him not to tell you, so you cannot ask him. And I am sure you understand why this cannot be overheard.’

‘Are you hearing things too?’ Nathaniel asked.

‘No,’ Núria replied. ‘I hoped that our library had an answer?’

‘I sure don’t,’ Sigrun said. ‘But I will look.’ Núria nodded at her, slightly disappointed.

‘What is he hearing, anyway?’ Zevran asked.

‘Voices talking, the Chant of Light, all sorts,’ Núria replied.

‘You seem positive that this is a Warden thing, so let’s find out what’s different between you and him,’ Jowan said softly, talking for the first time since they were here. ‘He has been a warden longer than you, which means perhaps you don’t hear any voices _yet_.’

‘The way he said it, this has gone on for a while,’ Núria answered, shaking her head.

‘He couldn’t by any chance be hearing us?’ Velanna suggested. ‘I mean … tapping into the wardens, since there is no darkspawn to overhear?’

Núria thought for a moment. ‘Unlikely. He said the chant was read by an old woman, that can’t be here.’ The sister that resided at the keep was just over twenty and sounded like it. ‘But what _is_ different between us? He’s not that far away, he’s not that much my senior, and I really don’t think it is because I am a woman. Or an elf, for that matter.’

‘Perhaps someone is messing with him,’ Anders suggested. ‘He wouldn’t be the first king.’

‘If it were that, it would be a mage, and given his history, he’d notice that,’ Jowan said.

‘This is getting nowhere,’ Núria whispered.

‘But a mage did mess with him,’ Anders said suddenly, staring at Jowan.

‘What? Don’t look at me like that!’ the other said fervently.

Anders swatted at him. ‘Not you, nutter. Darya! It makes sense! There’s a lot of activity in the tower at night. The chant is read disgustingly early, and the kids have astronomy lessons! He’s channelling his daughter, perhaps since she … whatever it was she did to him. No?’

‘I wonder what this means,’ Núria said, looking at the blond mage. ‘I mean, this cannot hurt him, can it?’

‘I wouldn’t bet on that,’ Velanna said. ‘She’s not only a mage, but also an old god, something very similar to what used to drive most wardens insane before. The taint can kill. But the tapping into the collective kills the mind. Tapping into someone else’s mind does, think of blood mages. Not all of them, but even those who aren’t taken by demons sometimes tend to lose it if they are careless.’

‘Any idea how we can stop this from happening?’ The three mages all looked rather awkward. Núria had no patience for them. ‘Spit it out already.’

‘Well, killing Darya would do the trick,’ Anders said. ‘One of us would have to do the killing and sacrifice themselves, you know the story. But I very much doubt that Alistair would agree with that solution.’

‘Nor would I,’ Jowan said firmly. ‘Call me biased, but I’d rather he goes down the path he would have anyway than that she’s killed for something that isn’t her fault.’

‘In a way it is,’ Zevran corrected him. ‘I assume this was caused by her attack.’

‘That was an accident,’ Jowan said. ‘She’s a child, you cannot hold her responsible for this.’

‘Enough,’ Núria said with her hand raised. ‘I will … tell him this.’

Ϡ

As Alistair sat before her, he looked more determined than she was used to. ‘No. You cannot seriously be suggesting to kill Darya.’

‘I’m not,’ Núria said quickly. ‘I’m just passing on to you what the others think.’

‘You told them this is about me.’ It wasn’t a question, so Núria didn’t feel she had to answer. ‘So … Is this going to kill me?’

‘We do not know,’ the elf said truthfully. ‘We will have to wait and see.’

 


	34. Unspoken

‘No,’ Núria said simply, staring at Aisling, who had only just arrived at Vigil’s Keep.

She threw her arms into the air, nearly hitting Anders in the process, who took a careful step backwards. ‘Remember not to punish the messenger for the message.’

Núria glared at him. ‘This isn’t the time. Is there anything else?’

‘Well, there is, but I wonder if the courtyard is the right place for this,’ Aisling said, heading towards the keep. ‘Darya is … devastated,’ she explained when they were in a small room behind a closed door. ‘If you don’t mind, I think we need Jowan here.’

Núria nodded, stepped outside the room and talked to a guard to send for him. Her eyes fell on Anders, who was for once at a complete loss for words. The past few years had shown that the taint did have an effect on him and Velanna, if only a slight physical one. What that meant for Velanna was anyone’s guess, but if Núria was any judge, she would never know: Velanna was gathering her possessions that were placed around the castle, very inconspicuously, but all the same. She would leave, most likely to find her sister, and Núria wasn’t going to stop her. She shook the thought off. ‘So … what happens now? Who knows, Aisling?’

‘Anora, obviously, but not the details. Only that he chose to kill himself in the Tower, no reasons, not what he … said. She didn’t seem overly surprised. If only Wynne had still been there … But there you are, things change. With her and Irving gone, two of the greatest mages of the circle have left the world. Leorah’s a tough one, though. And she’s got a more rebellious spirit than Irving. She asked me to tell you she wants you to visit, Anders. To deliver some sort of lecture about the Architect. Greagoir isn’t happy, but he grudgingly agreed. He does that a lot lately.’

A soft knock on the door wiped the dumbstruck look from Anders’s face. Núria opened the door to Jowan, Leliana and Zevran.

‘So much for small rooms are better to talk in,’ she said.

‘We thought it might be best if we were there to help,’ Zevran said lightly. ‘Just in case, you never know.’

‘I’m not here to arrest anyone,’ Aisling told them. ‘Very well, in that case, I start over. But remember that this is not supposed to be told to others as long as it’s not public. Yeah, right, I know it’s absurd. That being said … We had an … er … visit at the tower. A call from King Alistair, no less, demanding to see the child of the apostate-warden, as he put it. Of course we let him, but Greagoir insisted there be guards, and for once, I am glad he did. The guards were sworn to secrecy by King Alistair about what was the topic of the conversation, and Darya won’t talk. Alistair … left the room and found it was time to fall upon his blade. Right outside the door.’

‘What did the guards do?’ Zevran asked.

‘Wear stupid expressions before they started running for help. They were supposed to keep Darya safe, no one thought he’d do something so dumb. Any ideas why? Because Darya seems to think she’s responsible.’

‘In a way she is,’ Anders replied.

‘How dare you?’ Leliana flared up. ‘You cannot really think that!’

‘I think she caused this,’ Anders said calmly. ‘Not willingly or knowingly, that’s not what I’m saying. And lying to her about this won’t help her, she won’t buy it. She’s been learning magic for eight years, don’t forget that.’

‘The problem is,’ Aisling interrupted, ‘that Alistair didn’t go quietly. Those guards won’t tell what was said officially, but there are whispers. Whispers that the girl isn’t just a mage. Some think she’s an abomination. Some say she’s Dumat. Honestly, I don’t know which is more threatening.’

‘Is she safe?’ Jowan asked.

Aisling looked at her childhood friend. ‘Yet. She’s very young to brave the Harrowing, but Greagoir wants it done as soon as she feels ready.’

‘She’s still almost a child,’ Anders said softly. ‘That’s a horrible experience for someone so young.’

‘To tell the truth, I doubt if two more years of emotional development make that particular test easier. Once she is harrowed she’s a lot safer. At least the pressure of people clamouring she’s dangerous and must be made Tranquil will be taken away. Well. Not entirely, but to a point.’

‘Since when has it become custom to make a harrowed mage Tranquil?’

Aisling offered a crooked grin. ‘Answer that question yourself. Normally they just get killed if they turn from the circle.’

‘So the solution is to put Darya through the Harrowing while she’s still … well, harrowed from what happened,’ Zevran said. ‘Great plan, when better try and resist a demon.’

‘Sadly, it’s not this simple,’ Aisling said. She offered Jowan a shy glance. ‘As I said, Darya is in shock. She approached Leorah and Greagoir and asked to undergo the Rite of Tranquility. Leorah tried to talk her out of it and Greagoir refused because he won’t let her haste such a decision out of despair. In fact, that’s why I’m here.’ Her gaze turned to Leliana. ‘He asked me to tell you that he thinks you should come and see her.’

‘Just me, is it?’ Leliana asked.

‘No, both of you,’ Aisling said. ‘There will be a meeting at the inn by docks. Just tell her that this isn’t the solution.’

‘Gladly,’ Jowan muttered.

Núria frowned. ‘Well, what is the solution, if this is not it? She’s not safe at the circle, Tranquility is a horror, and she cannot leave either. Maker, I’m glad I don’t meddle with politics anymore.’

‘Let me quote Greagoir here,’ Aisling said with another wry grin. ‘We need to find someone who would harbour any sort of danger. Some manic Teyrn or something who wants a courtmage. Yes, he said something, not someone.’

‘I am currently out of manic teyrns,’ Núria told her drily.

‘And, what’s more important, if Velanna does leave, one mage short,’ Anders said with a smirk. ‘The Maker alone knows how long I still have, so perhaps that will be two. I even understand Alistair to a degree.’

Núria blinked. ‘You can’t.’ Her voice was barely above a whisper. ‘Ever. Anders!’

The mage shook his head. ‘I won’t kill myself, trust me. And unlike some of us, I’m not planning to sneak off and spend what time I have alone, chasing shadows. Perhaps I won’t even die that soon. Remember the Architect’s dwarf? She didn’t look exactly young, but she was alive, and she was certainly not a broodmother. Ugly, yes, but otherwise perfectly fine. I can handle ugly.’

‘Thanks,’ Núria whispered, rubbing her eyes. ‘So … whoa, what did you just suggest, Aisling?’

‘Now that’s the reaction I’ve been waiting for,’ Zevran said with a grin.

‘I don’t need your answer at once,’ Aisling said quickly. ‘But we do need it. If you know by the time Anders comes it would be good.’

Anders raised his hands. ‘Whoa. I haven’t said I’m going. First it is, “We’ve missed you, come and give a lecture”, then comes the part where I’m locked away and await my punishment.’

‘Leorah would go ballistic if anyone tried,’ Aisling told him. ‘And Greagoir isn’t what he used to be. Going soft in his old days. Not that I’m complaining.’

‘Er. Not that I don’t agree that this is a better place for her than the tower … for a few non-biased reasons, too … I do not think she can be a warden. We’d much more likely transform her into an archdemon if we tried to get her through the Joining.’

Núria felt how her head started spinning. ‘I need air.’ She rushed out into the courtyard. There she slumped to the floor beside a tree and stared at a patch of grass before her.

That was where Zevran found her a short time later. ‘There you are.’ He dropped down beside her.

‘He’s been in such pain, and all they talk about is mage politics,’ she said softly.

Zevran wrapped an arm around Núria’s shoulder. ‘They have to. But Leliana gave them a talking to for that after you’d left, if that helps.’

Núria smiled vaguely. ‘A little. This is just so much at once, why did Alistair have to do this now I can’t get away from here? For one thing, there are the darkspawn stragglers that seem to develop brains as well as free will. And I don’t even know what to make of that entirely demented moron of an elf we caught three nights back. What’s worse, he didn’t even do anything save sneak in at night and try to sneak out again. Not even food is stolen, so what am I keeping a screaming … whatever he is in the dungeon for?’

‘Because he chooses to yell in a foreign language rather than talk,’ Zevran said calmly. ‘I had a good look at him, I do not think he’s any danger to you. Let him go if you think he meant no harm. Who’s going to stop you?’ He shook his head. ‘But that’s not for now. Alistair’s funeral will be in a week. I assume you want to go.’

‘Zev, this creature killed five guards before they managed to take him, three of them when he was already disarmed, Maker have mercy,’ she growled. ‘And I’m not going to the funeral.’

Zevran frowned slightly. ‘Why?’

Núria gave him a long, hard look. ‘Because if I go, he’ll be gone.’

Zevran sighed. ‘Closure is worth a lot. I know what it’s like not to have it, and at times I would have given … not my right hand, perhaps, but a lot for a chance at that at least. You can say good bye to him.’

Slowly, Núria nodded. ‘I’ll think about it. I failed him, Zev. He was my friend, and I sent him away and didn’t help.’

‘You cannot save everyone, Núria. You tried, but for some things there is no cure. If Anders knows none, there is none.’

‘But why did he do something so stupid? Why not tell me he cannot take it? I’d have found something I can do at least.’

‘All you could have done would be to do the killing in his stead,’ Zevran whispered, earning a glare. ‘He was losing his mind, Núria, not sick like Anders might get. This is no more his fault than yours or Darya’s.’ He leaned towards her, kissing her softly. ‘I’m going to put myself into danger of getting hit, but I promised I would tell you. Seeing how you placed Ferelden’s last king on the throne, the queen asks for insights you might have.’

‘Adopt Teagan and put him on the throne,’ Núria said lightly. ‘I don’t care. I don’t do politics any more. Alistair would have an heir if he’d had the guts to make it happen.’

‘How so?’

‘All he would have had to do is give mages the rights every other person has. He did it for the alienage, didn’t he? Then he would have had a daughter.’

‘I’m afraid he was too much templar for that,’ Zevran said, chuckling.

‘No, he was too afraid of change,’ Núria replied angrily. ‘He was just more scared of me than of the landsmeet, that’s why he made Shianni a bann. And now I’ll have her here, hoping to the Maker she isn’t going to do the same to all of us when she’s angry.’

‘I don’t think she’ll do any such thing. And hating Alistair for dying won’t make it easier, either.’

‘I know,’ she whispered. Her arms snaked around Zevran clutching him firmly to her side.

‘I’m here,’ he said soothingly. ‘And I’ll always be here.’

‘What if I get sick, too? What then?’

‘What do you think?’ Zevran asked in reply. ‘Hmm? You should know me well enough.’ He took her chin into his left hand and looked at her. ‘Don’t you?’ Núria’s lower lip trembled and she nodded. Shaking his head slightly, Zevran pressed his lips to hers in a loving kiss.

After half a lifetime, Núria pulled back. ‘Stupid question. It’s just … I’m going to miss that fool.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((So … there we are, I’m done and finished. And, so I think, I’ve kept my promise and didn’t end with a cliffhanger. Much. I don’t do absolute endings, I’m afraid, for me this is a very closed ending. Trust me.  
> The remark about a captive is the only unresolved thing, unless I missed something. Feel free to speculate. Solution is in part three, Masters of War.  
> If I forgot something, which I probably did, considering how long this has become, especially if you consider By Any Other Name a part of it, please do tell me.  
> The chapter heading is a song by Lacuna Coil.  
> My thanks to all of you who followed this through. I love you all!))


End file.
